


S-s-stutter [Zarry  AU]

by kaleidoscopecait



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1d, BoyxBoy, Bullying, M/M, bottomHarry, stutter, topzayn, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 00:25:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 30,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17233979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidoscopecait/pseuds/kaleidoscopecait





	1. Chapter 1

ssshhhh

+Harry

"How pathetic, he has a s-s-stutter."

Slick tongues and sleazy clothes and fingers scratching my scalp.

s  
t

a  
m  
m   
e  
r

Sinister smiles and sexual advances and stammering

"S-s-stop."

Squeezing my eyelids shut and shattered glass and a dumpster.

An empty alleyway and shallow, staggered breaths.

Warm hands on my soft skin.

"So smooth."

Sniffles and tears staining my cheeks and him fisting up my shirt and sliding it up, guiding it over my head.

"Shhhh, gotta be quiet."

Pitiful whimpers and squeezing and yanking and tugging.

And thrusting and moaning.

Sensitivity and shivering and my spine tingling.

Spitting filthy words and filling me up, my body pressed against a cold brick wall.

Him sneering and snickering and me sobbing and my eyes stinging.

Stiff and sticky and sore and losing my strength.

Stroking me and sucking bites into my neck and scissoring me with his fingers and me squirming and suffering and my heart screaming.

Small shrieks and harsh slaps and being reprimanded.

"Don't tell anyone," he hisses.

Like a slithering snake. Venomous words.

Shaking and trembling and my heart quaking.

Bottom lip quivering and me biting my tongue.

And his mate joining in, grappling, his hands roaming and his eyes hungry.

Drinking me in and sinking to his knees, his fingers skidding up my legs and-

"Harry," I snap out of it and look up from the couch. He sighs and scribbles something on his notebook.

"S-sorry."

"Don't apologize," he frowns.

"M-mmy mum makes me come to t-t-these appointments."

Speech pathology. As if. I've had a stutter my whole life. I avoid socialization. They call me slow. It doesn't phase me.

"I know," he chuckles. "You love to remind me how much you hate coming. Talking to me isn't that bad is it? It sure beats us staring at each other awkwardly."

I laugh and stretch out comfortably on the couch.

"You have a nice laugh you know."

My cheeks flush and I fiddle with my fingers, twirling around a ring.

"T-thanks."

He smiles fondly and jots down something else.

"What do you even write down?"

He arches his brows and gazes at me for a moment, the cap of his pen in his mouth.

"What?"

"Your stutter," he says somewhat astonished.

"Oh," I mutter.

"You said a whole sentence without-" he cuts himself short, mumbling something and shaking his head.

I study the way his amber eyes flick over his notes and how his fingers carefully tuck pages.

Shrill cries and wailing sirens and stark white light and my head colliding with the concrete. Jabs and jeers and feet hitting the pavement.

Slicing my skin on a shard of glass and being scooped up by strong arms and a stretcher and leaking out blood.

The intensive care unit and being branded a rape victim and remaining silent, my tongue in my cheek.

Can't even speak.

"Mute," the doctor says.

My mum sobbing, nudging me, begging me to tell my story.

"Are you okay Harry?"

"S-sleepy," I lie.

"You can lay down if you want. I don't mind. Let's just keep things casual. This shouldn't feel like a chore."

So I rest my head on a pillow and tug up the blanket he has neatly folded on the chair of the couch.

"Are you comfortable?"

"A-am I safe here?"

"Why wouldn't you be?"

So I let my eyes close.

"Harry please," she pleads. "Talk to them. They're trying to help you. They hurt you baby."

"Harry, Harry, wake up."

Being shaken softly and my eyes snapping open, stifling a breath. Me clinging to him, his fingers carding through my hair.

Me soaking his shirtsleeve and him assuring me it's okay.

"I won't hurt you."

Letting someone touch me for once in my life.

But he's so gentle and I am safe here. Safe in his arms, my heart steadily beating.

Fluttering in my ribcage as the pad of his thumb collects teardrops.

Caressing my face.

"My stutter got worse," I choke on a sob. "Got worse after what happened."

"Did he hurt you babe?"

I nod timidly, correcting him. "T-they."

Gang rape.

That's what the authorities said, that's the term I lived with each night in the dark, snuggled down, huddled under sheets, my window locked tight.

Afraid of the dark, sleeping with a nightlight at fifteen.

Nightmares and waking up in a cold sweat, in a stifling heat. Pulling of the covers and shivering as the frigid air hits my bare skin.

Glistening with sweat, droplets pooling at the nape of my neck.

"Shh, don't cry."

"Shhhh, gotta be quiet."

Him rubbing soothing circles into my hip.

No tugging, tonguing, thrusting, taunting, tormenting.

Just tender touch.

And silent tears and his supple lips on my cheek, kissing them away.

"M'sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Kiss me again."

No stutter. Just a soft command and him leaning in again, his lips brushing over mine.

Slow exploration, so gentle our lips are barely touching, his eyelashes fluttering before his eyes close and my body reacting, the tenseness easing.

A good shiver spreading down my spine and him deepening the kiss slightly, his tongue lapping.

My heart is pounding but I'm not scared, his fingers tangled in my curls.

Him pulling away, a smile on his face.

"I don't mind your stutter at all."


	2. symphony of syllables

+Zayn

There's something about Harry.

The sadness in his emerald eyes and the way he gets so lost in thought, twiddling his thumbs and chewing at his bottom lip.

Something unnerving and terribly sad.

Because Harry is beautiful. He's bouncy curls and a nice smile and deeply set dimples. He's porcelain skin and rosy cheeks.

He's been victimized.

That's what he tells me. Victimized by dry, rough lips and wandering hands and dominant tones in the dark of night, shadows casting from dim lamp light.

Near a dumpster of all things, feeling just as worthless as its contents.

Being violated and exposed and vulnerable and ashamed. Too embarrassed to call for help, stuttering out for them to stop.

And I wonder why things happen, why someone would want to strip away his innocence. How someone could just make him bleed out and cry out and discard him like waste.

Harry is sensitive. He has a soft heart and a gentle soul and he's a good listener. He's silly too, giving me small smiles and bright laughter.

If I'm lucky of course.

Because he has mostly shut himself off. He's a recluse, a spider dangling in a web he wove just so he won't get hurt again.

Hesitant to talk to me.

But it's been three months and he trusts me now. Talks to me a bit about trivial things.

I like the sound of his voice. I'm sure he hates it, the way he struggles to spit out simple syllables, he just can't quite string them together.

But I could listen to him all day.

I know I shouldn't have kissed him. He's scared of this; of physical contact but I would never hurt him.

When he gazes down at the carpet bashfully, his cheeks flushed crimson I hope he understands that.

"I tried to scrub away the taste of his lips, tried to wash the memories down the drain but they just swirled all around me and suffocated me. I'm still afraid of the dark," he admits. "It's so fucking stupid."

"No it isn't," I whisper back. "It's okay to be afraid Harry."

"Most people aren't scared of sex," he jeers. "Nobody understands. They don't-" he turns away from me, another tear slipping down his face. "I've said too much."

"Harry, look at me."

My hand beneath his chin, titling his face up, my thumb running along his bottom lip.

"You didn't stutter at all just then. I mean...it doesn't matter if you do. It isn't something to be self-conscious about. Your voice is a symphony of soft syllables; violin strings and piano keys."

Harry is a sad soliloquy.

Harmonics and articulation and complex vibrations and him humming when I kiss him again, just briefly.

Someone has been plucking at his strings too harshly. Jarring, brassy sounds. He doesn't sound sweet, he's weeping. Singing out in minor key but there is no intermission.

No audience.

Nobody hears a sound. So it transforms into silence and his music fades away.

Diminishing, growing gradually softer.

Then a dramatic decrescendo.

His heart beating unsteadily, hitching.

Strumming like a drum. Pounding, pounding, fear coursing through his veins and gasping for air.

"Maybe I don't know what it's like but it hurts, seeing you like this. I don't want to imagine it...picture what they did that could make you break like this."

So he latches onto me and my fingers continue to knot up his hair and the clock ticks on the wall.

I'm aware that his scheduled appointment is over but my body is glued in place and he isn't letting go.

Clutch onto me and drench my shirt with tears and I promise your eyes will never be wet with them again.

That's what my heart says but my mouth doesn't move.

It's just the tick tock of the clock and my heart and his heart.

Connected. Finding a common rhythm. Communicating.

His body is warm, pressed against mine and he smells like strawberries.

I have to painstakingly break the silence.

"I think it's time for you to go. I'll see you next Thursday, yeah?"

He shakes his head furiously, blinking back tears.

"C-can I s-s-see you before then?"

There goes his tongue tripping up again, his words faltering, fumbling for the right things to say.

"Uh...of course you can babe. Here," I rip a page out of my notepad and scribble down an address.

"What's this, your place?"

His eraser pink tongue flicks over him lip, his eyes darting up towards me.

"Coffee date, this Saturday" I smile. "S'that okay?"

"Um," he bites his lip bashfully, his cheeks flaming. "Yeah that sounds nice."

"Hey," I press my nose to his and he giggles. "Why are you blushing?"

"Stop," he bats his lashes, casting his glance downward.

"Okay," I reply gently. "Don't stand me up."

"I won't Zayn."

He skips to the door and I laugh, my heart fluttering in my chest. Who knew it had wings?

This is how Harry should always be. Happy and carefree and spirited. Excited about the future.

Not scared.

"Saturday," he sighs softly.

"Saturday," I return a small smile.

And he's all I can think about the rest of the day, my heart pounding in my chest.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

I'm pathetic, wondering what coffee he likes. Cold brew or espresso or a mocha or cappuccino...soy milk? Extra whipped cream? Black?

I eliminate the last one. Too bitter for someone so sweet.

Maybe he likes medium roast or french vanilla.

This is absurd.

Pull yourself together Zayn.

I try to shake the thought but when it grows dark outside and my head hits the pillow it's images of him behind my closed eyelids.

The boy with soft lips and a stutter that I don't mind a bit.


	3. dabs of white

+Harry

There's a thick accumulation of snow when I wake up. My eyes grow wide like a child as I spring out of bed and gaze out the window.

It's frigid without the warm envelop of my comforter, my feet padding across the cold tile. I shiver slightly, my eyes fixed upon the downy white blanket of snow.

My breath hitches at how beautiful it is, fogging up the window pane.

Today is Saturday. I'll trudge through ten inches if it means seeing honey colored eyes and tawny skin.

It isn't just the chill of the weather, but the thought of him that sends more shivers down my spine.

I'm a bit indecisive about what to wear but tug on a comfy pastel purple jumper and a beanie, my curls poking out of the sides. I chuckle as I hastily throw on some socks and slip into some boots.

I grab a puffy coat and brush my teeth until the toothpaste burns. My face is flushed, even paler than usual.

It's been an unbelievably harsh winter and I look washed out.

Almost like a piece of blank copy paper. I waste no time pinching my cheeks because a gust of cold air pricks at me when I step out the door.

It's bone chilling, the cold seems to seep through the layers of fabric on my body. My legs walk quickly down the sidewalks, my boiling blood pumping inside me.

And I come to a sudden halt, my hand trembling as I reach for the door handle.

It's peaceful and quaint, tucked away on a street corner. Worn, faded brick and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee billowing out when I open the door.

And he's nestled in a booth by a window, his fingers skimming over the menu, eyes darting and then flicking over to me.

Smiling brightly, like the freshly fallen snow.

"Hi," I squeak out and slip into the booth.

He just laughs and I freeze up as his warm hands cup my cheeks.

"Harry, why on earth would you walk here?"

I shrug, my tense body easing up. I relax, my body conforming to the plush booth cushions.

My reflection in the window shows a faint pink tint to my cheeks.

Rosy enough to make up for my pasty skin. And my lips are cherry red, a little bit cracked but nothing Chapstick can't fix.

"I think I'll just settle on hot chocolate. Extra whipped cream."

"I like that," he grins. "Tried to pin down your coffee order and couldn't do it."

I blush, my fingers fiddling with a napkin.

He was thinking of me.

"I didn't know it would be so bloody cold. M'sorry about that."

"It's alright," I beam. "This is nice."

He orders a flat white, an artisan leaf etched in creamer.

Yet he calls me the hipster. And he also orders two blueberry muffins.

Delicious freshly picked blueberries and melted butter.

I can feel my insides growing warmer as he wipes a dab of whipped cream from the tip of my nose.

There's a new round of snow, white flakes sticking to the window.

Pressing onto the glass, clinging before they melt away.

And his hand slips over mine, my insides fizzing.

Effervescent.

Like dropping a tablet into water and watching it bubble up and dissolve.

My stomach churning like a washing machine.

On the spin cycle and he leans in from across the table, his lips brushing mine.

Rolling and skidding and tumbling along the bottom of my chest.

We both offer to pay but since it was his idea he spends the money and clasps onto my hand, our fingers interlocking.

"Where do you want to go love?"

Fluttering like the falling flakes of snow.

"We should go to a thrift shop."

His tongue dips out of the corner of his mouth, moistening his lips.

He's in deep concentration, the gears turning inside his head. I can see them cranking and he nods his head in affirmation.

"I like that idea."

He tries on a snug pair of light acid wash jeans and looks at me for approval.

"They look good. You look quite fit. Very bum flattering," I add with a chuckle.

"These aren't practical, when would I wear these?"

"I have a DIY denim project planned that would be perfect for those. You should nab them."

I find a retro windbreaker and some vintage designer jumpers.

"You look good in anything Harry. You have nice thighs," he blurts. "Sorry. I didn't mean that in a creepy way, I just...I'll stop talking now," he blushes.

"Hey, its okay."

I give a reassuring smile and we pay for our trendy bargains.

"Where to next?"

He swings around our shopping bags and I skip in front of him.

"The library!"

"Okay," he laughs. "I like the enthusiasm."

Crisp pages beneath my fingers and crinkling spines. My nose scrunching as I inhale the scent.

Well loved paperbacks and bent spines.

Zayn is sprawled on a chair, his nose buried in a book. I slip my phone out of my pocket and snap a photo. He's so unsuspecting, in his dark wash skinnies and leather jacket.

He looks like he belongs on the cover of a magazine, his tan skin glowing. It's the dead of winter and he looked sunkissed, his cheeks radiant; eyes glimmering.

And he glances up at me, smiling with his eyes.

My cheeks grow warm and my heart pounds against my ribcage.

I busy myself looking at some books, reading the little blurbs to decide which ones suit my fancy and he startles me, his arms wrapping around my waist.

I panic, dropping a book to the floor. My heartbeat is erratic, the sound of blood pumping through my ears.

My pulse strums in my neck and my body trembles.

I hate this. I hate how scared I get.

"Oh my gosh," he mutters. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking, sneaking up on you like that."

He lets go and scoops down to pick up the book.

"I'm stupid sometimes."

"It's alright. Really Zayn."

I turn to face him and the pads of his thumbs swipe across my cheeks. Soothingly.

I'm pretty sure I'm melting. I'll soon be a puddle on the floor.

"When I touch you," he blushes. "I don't want you to think it's sexual because it isn't. I just...I dunno. You deserve to be touched the right way. Tenderly."

So he touches me tenderly with trembling hands. He's flustered for no apparent reason but then he admits "you're so beautiful Harry, sometimes I get nervous around you, I-"

He sucks in a breath, his feet shifting.

We pick out some books to check out and he pecks my cheek as we reach my flat.

"I'm trying that paint splattered demin thing you told me about."

"Okay," I chuckle. "But you missed."

"What," he asks dumbfounded.

I plant a kiss on his lips and pull away, smiling. His arms loop around my neck and our lips reconnect.

Soft and gentle and unhurried. Just our lips locked, exploring and his tongue skimming.

My lips parting, granting it entrance. It isn't sloppy or heated or frenzied.

Full of desire and passion but not rough, not demanding.

He tastes like blueberries and whipped cream and there's snow in his jet black hair. He shudders from the cold and pulls me impossibly closer, the world around us disintegrating.

Hot breath fanning across my neck, his lips tickling my earlobe. "I had fun. Another date?"

"Yes," I reply breathlessly.


	4. keepsakes

+Zayn

What was I thinking? Seriously. I scared him half to death. I shudder at the thought of him, so innocent, so unsuspecting, cornered by strangers. Pinned to a brick wall, defenseless. I squeeze my eyes shut but it's just so graphic. Fumbling with his zipper, yanking down his jeans. Like savages. Hunger flashing in their eyes, hands roaming his thighs and warm tears streaking his cheeks. Feeling helpless and weak and utterly worthless.

He isn't. I hope he knows that.

It makes me so angry I'm seeing stars. I swear if I knew those guys they'd be dead in a fucking ditch. They deserve to rot in hell. They-

I try to shake the thought.

The haze in my mind clears away and it's just flashes of sparkling emerald green eyes and scarlet cheeks.

Our fingers entwined, my heart quickening; pulse strumming like a drum.

We make our own rhythm. Our two pumping hearts, his face nuzzled in the crook of my neck, those chestnut brown curls tickling my skin.

It could lull me to sleep, the tick of his heart. The sound of his voice, sweet like dripping honey. Smooth like velvet. Rich like dark chocolate.

He probably didn't even notice how his stutter vanished on our date.

I did. I pick up on subtle things. Gestures and nuisances. His body language.

The crinkles at the corners of his eyes, his deep set dimples, the way he brushes curls out of his face and twiddles with the rings on his fingers. How he taps tabletops when he's anxious and bites his bottom lip when worried. His bright laughter and the sway of his hips when he walks.

He strides, shoulders back, chin up.

Unless he's sad. Sagging shoulders, slumped in a chair or sinking into the couch, eyes fixed on the floor or the ceiling. Hunched, hunkered, hiding. Adverting eye contact, clearing his throat. Mumbling.

Stuttering more than usual, his deep voice higher pitched. Cracking and faulting. Feet tapping the floor.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Rings scraping over the table. Scratching his chin, grimacing and wincing and pressing his eyelids shut.

Sometimes he's chatty. On rare occasions. Talking about his one-eyed rescue cat Dusty or telling some horrible joke.

I always laugh because it makes him happy, his eyes shimmering.

If I could capture that sound I would. Store it in my heart.

A keepsake.

There's a sliver of my heart carved out just for him. My favorite client. One of my closet friends.

Maybe that's pathetic but I don't have many friends. I'm a reserved guy. It's just me. No dad. No mum. No silly cat or furry dog.

Just some Rothko art prints and canvas art. Edison bulbs strung from bare wooden rafters. A vintage record player and a carton of cigarettes. A bookshelf filled with timeless classics and physiological thrillers.

Lots of tea and samosas and spicy chicken curry.

Burning incense and smoking weed. A closet jammed full of jackets. Denim and leather and satin bombers. Skinny jeans and a drawer packed with sweatpants.

My guilty pleasure.

Boots and trainers and a splurge pair of Gucci slides.

And hoodies galore.

Then there's my bed. Plain white. White sheets. White comforter. White pillows, a large bay window in my room allowing light to seep through in the mornings.

Filtering through my plain drapes.

Concrete flooring that's bloody cold in the winter.

I wonder if Harry is cozy at his place. I can see him with fuzzy blankets and decorative throws. Not a modern, industrial flat like mine but quaint. Warm and inviting.

Well loved books and brown vanilla sugar candles. Polaroid photos and fairy lights and plush rugs.

Maybe he'll invite me over. And maybe his flat will be just like I imagine it.

I know I'm crazy, creating a fantasy of what it looks like.

That's probably why I have no friends.

Ed is my closest friend. Pretty much my only friend besides Harry. A fiery redhead, chasing his dreams. Strumming a guitar with calloused fingers, singing his heart out. Pouring his soul into his music. He's a kind, gentle person. Always encouraging and supportive but also brutally honest.

He's really fucking talented.

I value our friendship. Late night calls and me crying into my phone. Us drinking until we can't see straight and smoking until our brains are fogged up.

Pouring our sadness and heartache over ice. Sharing our blunders. Bad blind dates. Being stood up. Me admitting my sexuality. Him helping me come to terms with it.

And then there's Harry. Knock knock jokes and him listening intently to my stories. Laughing and nodding along. Telling me I'm not stupid for flirting with a bloke that had a boyfriend by accident. In my defense, I didn't know. Assuring me it's okay to spill beer all over myself in a pub, to puke on the side of a curb, outside a nightclub.

Begging me to stop smoking. Pleading with his gleaming green eyes.

Asking me what it's like to be high. Me providing an explanation.

Him trying to teach me how to dance. Me stepping clumsily on his feet and admitting defeat. Him letting gravity tug him down. Tripping up and stumbling and laughing it off. And him humming some strangely familiar tune.

He's blessed too, never stutters when he sings. He has the voice of an angel. I keep forgetting to tell Ed he can sing.

I feel like they'd really get along.

It's 1:00 a.m. and I can't sleep. Keep rustling beneath the covers. So I phone Ed.

He picks up on the second ring.

"Are you fucking kidding me Zayn? I need my ginger sleep."

"Sorry," I chuckle. "I just need to tell you something important."

"Damn well better be," he grumbles. "You're lucky I'm not hungover."

"You might not be ready to settle down but I am. I'm tired of being lonely, of coming home to emptiness. Hearing my voice echo down the hall."

"What are you getting at? Do you wanna fuck or something? Geez Zayn. I mean I'll come over but I want fifty quid."

"You're so vulgar."

"And you aren't?"

I sigh dramatically and roll my eyes. I wish he could see me through the phone.

"My point is I found someone and I want to invite him over."

"Simple," he snorts. "Invite him over. Is he up for sex?"

"We aren't intimate yet. Calm your dick down. He...we aren't ready for that. But do you think it's too soon for him to come over? I don't want him to get the wrong idea."

I chew nervously at the inside of my lip. Remind me why I thought this was a good idea.

"Course not. Just snog and watch a movie or some sappy shit. He'll love it."

"You're no help," I laugh. "But I love you."

"Zayn," he says seriously.

"Ed," I reply sternly, biting back laughter.

"Do you love him?"

"I...I think I do."


	5. nightlight

+Harry

Clutching at the covers, gasping for air, my stomach heaving. Wheezing. It felt so real, skinny crooked fingers grabbing at me, hovering over my bed. Two shadows, dancing on the wall. Male voices, guttural. A deep growl and hands on my chest, in my hair, ripping my clothes off me. Me screaming at the top of my lungs and waking up to darkness. My nightlight went out. I go over to the outlet but it's shot. I swallow the lump in my throat.

It's just the dark Harry. You're such a baby. My bottom lip wobbles and tears prick at my eyes.

I check to make sure the window is locked tight and crawl back into bed. My heart is pounding. It's all I can hear. My blood pumping and the wind howling outside.

It's unsettling, the dark. Like something terrible can happen at any moment.

Nothing is going to snatch you. Monsters aren't real.

Except they are. They feed off fear and vulnerability. They love the sound of your broken voice and begs and they get off on your pain.

Sadists.

I'm stupid for grabbing my phone off the nightstand and dialing him. Three rings and I'm about to hang up when he picks up, his voice groggy.

"Harry? Are you alright babe?"

"I...my nightlight," I sniffle. "It went out and it's really dark and I'm scared."

"Hey, it's okay. I'll come over, yeah? Hang tight."

I hear shuffling and then he reads off my address. Just a perk, him having an emergency file on all his patients.

"That's it," I say relieved.

"You live alone?"

"Its fine Zayn."

A shiver runs down my spine and the window rattles. It's just the wind. I keep muttering that under my breath. And I hear the rev of an engine outside, headlights flashing. Then darkness.

Two light knocks on the door but my body is frozen in place. I finally snap out of my trace and put my hand on the door knob.

"It's me Harry."

Harreh.

His voice disappearing in the wind. I open the door and he tries to smile but his teeth are chattering.

"Come in," I motion him inside and he rubs his arms, trying to warm up.

He falls onto the couch and I drape a blanket over him.

"Sorry, I didn't know it was so cold outside. Do you want some warm tea?"

He gently declines my offer.

"Harry," he plays with the tassels on the blanket. "Do you mind if I stay here? It's really late," he yawns and smiles sheepishly.

"Of course not. If you're tired you can go to bed. I'll just sleep out here."

"Nonsense," he waves off the proposition. "I came over here because you're scared. Don't give me that rubbish."

I scratch the back of my head and he sighs, standing up, letting the blanket fall to the floor.

"May I use the restroom?"

"Y-yeah, sure." I blush as he walks by, a cool gust of air hitting my skin.

He comes back shivering several minutes later in nothing but Calvin Klein underwear, his arms around his waist.

"You can borrow my clothes," I chuckle and go back into the bedroom. Rustle through some drawers and toss him an oversized shirt and sweatpants.

"Thanks," he mumbles and tugs them on. "I uh...I'll be sure to get you a new nightlight."

I laugh and climb into bed.

"Well," I pat the empty space beside me and he returns a lopsided smile.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I bite my lip. "I'm not scared of you."

He slips into bed beside me and nestles under the covers. There's space between us until he scoots over. Warmth is radiating from his body and I want more of it. I nuzzle into the crook of his neck and his arms wrap around me.

"You should never be scared," he whispers. His breath tickles my earlobe. I can feel his heartbeat strumming, his body pressed to mine.

My body tingles, chills coursing down my spine.

"Can you fall asleep without your nightlight?"

"You're my nightlight."

His fingers stroke my hair and my eyelids close. I hum contently and I feel his lips press against my cheek.

"Try to get some rest. I'll still be here in the morning. I promise."

One familiar pair of hands. Tan skin and me looking up, shaking my head violently. Zayn. It's Zayn. A brittle smile on his face, flames dancing in his amber eyes. The single light flickers and the room grows dark.

"Z-zayn," I stammer. "Don't do this."

"I want you Harry. Want your body under mine," he snarls. "I always get what I want."

"No," I cry out. "No, you would never hurt me. You said so yourself. Y-you," I sniffle.

"Cat got your tongue Harry?"

A wicked cackle and him climbing onto the bed, straddling my hips.

"You should never be scared."

Stroking my cheek, collecting a teardrop with his finger.

"It will only hurt a little."

Me screaming and his hand clamping over my mouth.

"Shh, you know me. We're not strangers. You want this right, Harry? You want me."

Removing his hand and me writhing beneath his body bracketing me.

"Not like this Zayn. Please. This isn't right. This isn't you. Don't do this."

"This is me Harry. This is what I've always wanted. Don't be foolish."

"Harry! Harry, love." He pulls me into his arms and rubs my back.

We're both sitting upright. Sobs rack my body. My throat feels raw like I've been screaming things that were locked up for centuries.

"You were trashing around and...and yelling my name. I'm here now," he smooths my hair. "You're safe."

I wriggle free of his grasp and he reaches for me again. My body hits the cold floor with a thud.

"Harry," he frowns. "Are you hurt?" He kicks off the covers and attempts to scoop me up into his strong arms.

But doubts are swimming in my head and I shake my head firmly, finding words.

"Don't touch me," I hiss. "Stay away from me."

"It was a nightmare Harry. Please," he pleads.

"Zayn," I squeeze my eyes shut. "It wasn't them this time."

"Talk to me babe."

My eyes snap open meeting his. Soft and gentle. Trustworthy. I can't let these dreams get to me. I put my hand out and he pulls me to my feet, his hand on the small of my back, guiding me to bed.

"It was you Zayn."

The room grows still. No sound but the ticking of two hearts. Even the wind has settled down.

"I know I shouldn't be scared of you but it felt real. You wanted to hurt me. You just wanted-," I choke on my own tears.

"It isn't about sex Harry. I don't give a damn. I'd wait forever for you. Whenever you're ready. I would never force you to do something you're uncomfortable with."

Wiping away more tears, his lips brushing over my neck.

"I'm comfortable with this."

His laughter on my skin. He pulls away, a smile on his face.

"With kissing?"

I nod, feeling grateful he can't see me blushing in the dark.


	6. snow and sensitivity

+Zayn

He's still sound asleep when I slip out of bed. I rummage through several cabinets and brew some coffee. There's some pancake mix so I start making that, switching on the griddle. Sleepyhead wraps his arms around my waist and yawns.

"Hi cutie." He giggles and I turn, pressing my lips to his cheek. His hair is sticking up. It looks wild but when I try to fix it, he grumpily swats my hand away.

"Why are you making breakfast?"

"Why not," I grin. 

"You didn't have to Zayn. You've already done enough for me."

He goes over to the fridge and chops some fresh strawberries before finding the whipped cream. 

"What syrup do you like?"

"Maple," I reply jokingly.

"I have original, pecan, blueberry, strawberry-"

"They're going to expire. Who needs that much syrup?"

"Ouch, stop stepping on my pride." He gives a little pout, pulling out the original maple syrup and a bar of butter.

"M'sorry babe," I wrap my arms around him and lick the shell of his ear.

"Ewww, get off," he squirms. "You just licked my ear, you sicko. The pancakes are burning!"

I jump to tend to the pancakes. Mine are always golden brown, I can't ruin them.

"They are not! You lied to me."

He laughs and I chase him around the kitchen with a spatula in hand.

"Don't lick my ear again."

"Or what? You'll bite me?"

He grabs my wrist, his teeth grazing my neck.

"Okay stop. I'm seriously going to burn the pancakes this time."

He laughs and squirts some whipped cream into his mouth as I plate the perfect cakes.

Harry finds joy in making a face out of the strawberries and saturating his stack of pancakes with syrup.

"That's pure sugar."

There's whipped cream on his nose and I laugh as he tries to lick it off.

"It's impossible."

So I lean in towards him and lick it off. "What's up with you licking things Zayn?"

He dips his finger into the cream and smears it on my lips.

Before he lets me lick it off, his lips find mine, his tongue flicking over the dollop of whipped cream.

It slides into my mouth, rough and wet obscenely pink. He tastes so sweet, my moan hits the back of his throat. He's somehow in my chair, his legs bracketing my hips and my hands are fisted in his hair.

He pulls away trying to catch his breath but I tug at his curls, prompting him to move back, our lips reconnecting.

My lips move to his neck, gently sinking into his skin and sucking small brusies. My hands cup his ass, massaging his flesh.

"Z-zayn."

I stop, my lips swollen and eyes wide.

"Not too fast," he blushes and climbs off of me.

"I'm sorry babe."

His fork pokes at his pancakes but he doesn't eat another bite.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

He's staring blankly at the table, his fingers flicking the corner of a napkin.

"I don't want to push things. Never be afraid to tell me to stop."

He nods silently, his eyes suddenly wet with tears.

Wrong choice of words Zayn.

"C'mere."

He gets up from his seat and I pull him onto my lap, my arms enveloping him.

"Look at me babe."

I gently tilt his chin so our eyes are meeting.

"Do you trust me?"

He nods and I caress his cheek. His head tilts from my touch.

I feel myself melt a bit. It's on the tip of my tongue, I'm fighting to hold it in. It's too Zayn, you'll scare him away.

"Is something bothering you?"

It's somewhat ironic, the teary-eyed, messy haired boy is asking if I'm okay.

"I...it's nothing."

"Okay," he kisses the corner of my mouth, a smile on his face. "What do you want to do today babe?"

He clears the table and I watch him at the sink, his fingers scrubbing away grime. Harry is a clean freak. Washing dishes as if the dishwasher isn't effective enough. Has to do it twice. Everything is stored and tucked away neatly. Perfectly folded towels, not a speck of dust anywhere.

I'm definitely not checking out the way his ass wiggles or the shape of his thighs. He glances at me, catching me staring and laughs.

I've never been much of a blusher but my cheeks grow warm.

"How about the park," he suggests.

"It's bloody cold outside Harry."

He shrugs, his cheeks flushing.

"It was just an idea Zayn. Nevermind."

Now you've done it.

"Hey, I wasn't trying to upset you. How about a movie? I can cuddle you until that pout disappears."

A small encouraging smile and I'm up out of the chair, flinging my arms around him, peppering the side of his face with kisses.

Harry is sensitive. I have to be more careful.

Biting it back again.

Those words.

I love you.

"Babe I changed my mind. We can go to the park."

His eyes gleam and he nuzzles deeper into the crook of my neck, a small giggle escaping his lips.

"You are so precious," I tease.

"Zaaayn," he groans.

I hate the cold but there's no time to hold a grudge. Dressing in layers, tugging on a coat. Harry skips around in a hoodie like the cold doesn't phase him.

And he's skilled at making snowballs, pelting me several times, laughing at my pain. The cold seeps through my clothes and I shiver but realize I haven't had this much fun in ages. He drops into the blanket of snow to make a snow angel.

"Harry," I chuckle. "You'll get hypothermia."

He jumps out of the snow, a pile of white powder scattering around.

"Let's warm up in the library."

His cold hand slips into mine, his neck falling onto my shoulder.

"I'm sorry you hate the cold. I think the snow is beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

Muttered under my breath but I know he hears me.

"Zayn," he says softly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"There's something I want to say but I'm afraid."

"At least you don't sleep with a nightlight," he says jokingly. "You know I think-"

"I love you."


	7. the boy who

+Harry

It hurts too much. I've been trying so hard to let go but I can't.

"Say it for me," he jeers.

Me shaking my head. Crying uncontrollably like a fucking baby.

His friend spits at me, laughs when it lands in my hair. I don't know why I'm so weak but what can I do?

What are you supposed to do when your legs feel like wax and your voice falters? When words fail you and all you can do is cry?

And they're prying with greedy hands, fingers fisted in your hair. Yanking and tugging and you're biting your damn tongue.

It isn't like anyone would help you anyway. The fucking twink with a stutter. The boy who wears flower crowns and has pink bedsheets and wishes for nothing but love.

The boy who watched the stars twinkle and rushed out to get fairy lights to hang up.

The boy who likes the soft lull of rain and the feeling of sand between his toes.

The boy who trips over dogs and cuddles cats.

The boy who spent a whole allowance on candy and got a toothache.

The boy that gets slammed into lockers and kicked in the stomach.

The boy that rushed out of the classroom during a presention.

The one that had an anxiety attack when the new kid talked to me.

The boy that crawled across the bathroom floor when he got home and threw up his insides. Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Flushed the pain down the toilet.

The boy that sobbed in the shower, hoping it would wash down the drain. The boy who couldn't scrub the filth from his body.

The boy that still smiled and lied to his mum.

The boy that was forced to see a therapist.

I'm not a boy anymore. I'm not a damn child but it still hurts.

And I still cry.

Cry at the softness in his eyes and the tone of his voice and the way I felt it inside my bones.

The way it sent a shiver down my spine, made my heart hiccup.

I love you.

Nobody has ever said it that way.

Maybe that's why I can't say it back. I swallow the lump in my throat.

His hands are tracing circles in my back. He's so gentle I almost don't believe it.

Everybody wants something. There's always a catch.

Sometimes I think he can see my thoughts. That he tries to unravel the web of jumbled syllables in my head.

That he knows what I'm thinking when he whispers "I would never hurt you."

He's thrusting into me relentlessly. I'm no longer concerned with the tears streaking down my cheeks or the imprints of fingers where he slapped my ass.

I know I should have just obeyed. Submission. Folding in on myself and letting his take control because that's what he wants and I can't deny him.

Jabbing, jerking movements, my mind is panicking.

"Everything hurts."

We're huddled under blankets, my body chilling.

It's not from the cold. I can handle that. It's how cold those two pairs of eyes were, how callous they were.

"Harry," warm arms embracing me, amber eyes meeting mine.

"I don't want to be t-touched," I stammer.

So he lets go.

"Just wanna be alone."

Sad eyes and a deep frown on his face. I must be crazy, telling the only person that cares about me to give me space.

"I understand. Let me know if you need anything, okay? I'll be in the kitchen."

I nod and nestle back under the blankets. I wasn't scared until he said he loved me. That's terrifying. I don't know if I can stomach it.

He pities me. Feels sorry for me like everyone else that knows.

Why did I say anything at all?

I want to go home, want to burrow myself in covers and bury my face in pillows and suffocate.

I hate being alone, hate feeling vunerable. Now I want to take it back. So when he kneels down to stroke my cheek I stir, my eyes opening up slowly.

Love and pity are two very different things.

"I didn't mean it," I mumble.

"What babe?"

"I like when you touch me."

Cheeks stained pink and the sound of his laughter and his lips capture mine.

"That's what I thought."

I hear the whistle of the tea pot and smell the sweet aroma of cinnamon.

Maybe this is home.

"Would you like a cinnamon roll?"

"Cinnamon bun," I correct. "You have it all wrong."

"I was going to give you extra icing," he pouts.

"Zayn," I whine. "Please."

Sad eyes. He'll cave.

But he doesn't. His fingers tickle my sides, sending me into a fit of giggles.

"Stop! I'm sorry. You're right. Cinnamon rolls."

He chuckles, his hands growing still and I follow him into the kitchen. My eyes watch him as he spreads on more icing and turns on the radio.

John Mayer and I'm humming along, dancing around in his kitchen like I am still a child.

That boy is still trapped inside of me. Zayn bursts into laughter, taking a bite of a cinnamon roll. There's a glob of icing on the tip of his nose that I lick off. He sets down the roll and grabs my hand, a smile on his face.

"I can't dance. You should teach me."

"It's easy," I grin. "Just let your feet find the rhythm and have some fun with it."

I'm singing along now, loudly and enthusiastically.

My hands are on his hips and he's stumbling along, trying not to step on my feet.

He stops suddenly, his hands gripping the counter.

"Just keep singing for me love."

So I do and I'm that boy again. A happier version. Carefree and young and not exposed to the terrors of the world.

Zayn brings out that side of me.

I'm eating too much icing and watching Zayn's body move as he washes the dishes.

It's okay to revert back to childhood. Times were simple then. I had hopes and dreams and so much to live for.

His arms loop around me, his sweet lips pressing against mine, tongue parting my mouth.

My heart is thudding in my chest but I'm safe.

I'm not afraid of him touching me. I'm not afraid of those three words.

So it tumbles right out of my mouth.

"I love you Zayn."


	8. 2:00 AM plans

+Zayn

A sudden coldness and my hands are grappling for something, fumbling in the dark.

Or someone.

"Harry?"

My fingers find my phone on the nightstand. I press the button and it glows eerily, illuminating the dark.

I can see how he's scared. A shiver runs down my spine. Everything looks different in the dark. Desolate. Dancing shadows and the scent of lonliness.

His side of the bed empty beside me, the sheets a crumpled mess.

Panic sets in.

I check to make sure the window is closed tight. It is. My feet pad across the floor.

Searching every room. I don't like the way this feels.

"Zayn."

I turn around. It's his shadow, moving towards me. A halo of curls.

"I was so worried Harry. I-"

On switch the lights, flooding my eyes. Searing light. Stark white. Too bright. Squeezing my eyes shut tight.

He has on one of my oversized sweatshirts, it covers part of his thighs and his bum.

That's when I notice the blood trickling down his skin, the brusises forming on his neck.

"W-who did this to you? Harry. This isn't okay."

What he says next scares me the most, my phone shattering as it hits the floor.

I'm trembling. Legs quaking, hand cupping over my mouth.

"You Zayn."

Waking up in a cold sweat, gasping for air.

I'm alone. In my flat. In my bed.

No sign of Harry.

He told me he loved me.

Told me again in a thrift shop. Kissed me on the throat for emphasis.

And now I'm calling him at 1:00 in the morning because I'm fucking crazy.

"Zayn," he says groggily. "Is everything okay?"

"I just...I had a bad dream, wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Oh. That's thoughtful," he chuckles. "It isn't like I was trying to sleep or anything."

"Sorry love," I laugh.

I can picture him smiling through the phone. Dimpled and bright. Rare but beautiful.

"Do you...can I take you out tomorrow? Maybe dinner and a movie. How does that sound?"

"That sounds nice babe. Why don't you get some rest though?"

"Are you going to be okay? Did you get a new nightlight?"

He laughs softly. "Maybe. Night Zayn."

"G'night Harry."

It takes a few deep breaths and me convincing myself that I'll never hurt Harry before my eyes finally close again.

Why can't I have good dreams about Harry? Frolicking in fields of flowers or something sappy like that.

I'm trying to hold off on wet dreams. It's extremely hard for me because Harry is just pretty. The shape of his bum in his skin tight jeans and the way his curls bounce freely when he throws his head back in laughter. The dip of his pastel pink lips and his cherry tinted cheeks.

Parted just for me, tongues lapping softly. Just the sound of snacking lips and shallow breaths and my fingers skimming his pale skin.

God, what I would give to touch him. I haven't been touched like that in ages. Slowly and sensually.

He hasn't either. All he's ever known is pain, mistaking it for pleasure. Cursing himself for liking the way it felt.

It isn't his fault that his body hummed. That he felt it surge through his body; a wave pulsing through him.

Because even though there wasn't consent, even though he came when he tried not to and cried because their hands were rough, movements quick and brutal his body had never felt something quite like it.

I can make him feel that way again. Hands gentle and kind. Slow, careful movements and soft caresses.

Shake the thought away Zayn. He's scared. He isn't ready to experience that again, being controlled by someone else. I'll probably never be given the chance.

It isn't about sex anyway. It's about the way he makes me feel. The way his smile makes my heart flutter in my chest.

The way his voice shakes my ribcage. How his jokes make me laugh and his eyes make me melt. 

I tell him everything and he listens. Knows just what to say to make things better.

Harry is a ball of sunshine on good days. Bursts of light, laugher and sparkling eyes.

Everyone loves Harry but he won't admit it. He prefers being alone. I'm reserved in a different way. In that I need creative space.

Sometimes I struggle to breathe.

I'm not scared of trusting people or putting my feelings out there.

But I'm deathly afraid of hurting Harry.

Maybe I need to let loose. It's been forever since I kicked back with Ed. He's one for throwing sick parties and I always turn down his friendly invite.

Not this time.

I need alcohol in my veins and weed clouding my mind. I need blasting bass and getting lost in the rhythm.

Scratch that, I need my blood to swim in alcohol. I want to drown in it right now.

Because I desperately want something I can't have.

It's dizzying.

Maybe I don't need that release. I just need his warm hand in mine and a shared bowl of popcorn.

I guess it doesn't have to be popcorn.

1:47 AM. I've wasted nearly an entire hour thinking of him.

So much for sleep. I didn't need it anyway.

Harry likes cuddles and sour skittles. I'm rethinking the movie theatre thing. Too dark, too cramped...maybe he'll agree to do it at my place.

He has fairy lights in his room. That's cute as hell. Where can I get fairy lights before tomorrow evening?

I'm up out of bed, a pen in my mouth, rummaging for a notebook.

A pillow fort. Candy. Lots of candy. I have a bit of a sweet tooth. Sparkling water...the nasty strawberry kiwi one he always has in his appointments.

What movie? Dear god.

Definitely not horror. Action? Count that out.

Romantic? Eh...maybe.

Comedy? A real winner in my book. Safe option. Not really date material.

A sad movie! Fucking genius. He cries, I kiss him. He swoons. Storybook stuff.

Fuzzy blankets. I know I have those. Should I attempt to make him dinner?

Maybe I'll just order pizza. Geez, that's lame. Pizza and candy. What are we, twelve? 

My mind is a disaster. Honestly.

I'm starting to question if an indoor date is a good idea. Dinner and a movie? Kinda cliche.

I'm overthinking this.

It isn't like Harry is picky.

Sweet and simple and extremely silly.

What's something that can perfectly capture that?

It hits me around 2:00 AM.


	9. starry eyed

+Harry

Glancing in the mirror and smiling is not a common thing for me.

But my reflection is staring back at me, dimples showing, lips tugged upward.

I tear apart my closet looking for something to wear. It isn't that I lack options, it's just that Zayn sees me in skinny jeans and t-shirts every Thursday. Maybe I should switch it up.

Jeans are a staple though. How can I not wear jeans? I shimmy into some, twirl around once to check myself out in the mirror.

Not bad.

I slip into a gold silk top, adjust the collar just a bit and throw my hair into a messy bun.

Cinnamon rolls.

As if. They're cinnamon buns.

Does it look like I'm trying too hard? My hair is up. How could I possibly be trying too hard?

A pair of black boots and I'm ready. I spritz on a tad of cologne and apply coconut flavored chapstick.

What if he hastes the taste of coconuts? I quickly wipe it off before settling on some mint lip scrub.

Who doesn't like mint? Watch it be Zayn. I'll jinx myself.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I'm on my way. I just-"

"Um Harry...is it okay if the venue has changed?"

"Well we agreed on your place but I guess it doesn't matter."

"Whoops. I mean from inside to outside. I'm stupid."

He laughs nervously. How can he be nervous? He's Zayn Malik.

"Of course."

"Just come to my place," he chuckles. "We're going on a ride though."

"I knew it," I joke. "You're taking me somewhere secluded so you can kill me. You need a good place to hide the evidence."

"Guilty, need a good place to dispose of your body."

My hands are on the steering wheel, tapping along to the radio. Windows rolled down, cool breeze blowing.

A smile still on my face.

"I'll see you soon Zayn."

"Okay," he says quietly. "I tried really hard."

I frown, my fingers stilling.

"You didn't have to you know. I just enjoy spending time with you. You...you mean a lot to me Zayn."

Silence for a couple of seconds before he says "yeah I know but you're special to me too. I want this to be perfect."

"Nothing is perfect Zayn."

Whispered softly into the line but my heart catches it, "I think you are."

I haven't even gotten there and my heart has already stopped beating once.

...

"Wow," he breathes out. "You're so beautiful."

Warmth fanning across my cheeks. Nothing new with Zayn.

"Everything is in my car. Are you ready?"

I nod, unable to come up with a coherent response.

Seeing him in a leather jacket does things to me and there's a strand of hair over his face that I don't bother to fix. He looks like he's straight out of a magazine shoot.

And he takes my hand. Kisses my cheek. The boy with blushing cheeks and a stutter.

He called me beautiful.

Doesn't he know he is too?

"It's kind of chilly. You can wear my jacket if you want. I have blankets in the back though. Whatever you prefer I guess. My jacket smells slightly of nicotine. I'm trying to stop but-"

I place my hand over his knee, rub gently with the pad of my thumb. I feel him relax and the rambling stops.

"Why are you so nervous? It's just me."

A heavy sigh and drumming on the wheel.

"It isn't just you. Listen, it isn't about impressing you or sweeping you off your feet. I just thought you deserved this. You deserve cute dates and snuggles...you deserve happiness. I feel like you've been stripped of that and it isn't fair."

"That isn't your fault. I don't want you to pity me Zayn."

He sucks in a breath.

"I didn't mean that at all. If I pitied you I would look at you with sad eyes and move on with my life. I have feelings for you Harry. Really strong feelings that I can't quite explain. I like that I can be myself around you; that we can just laugh and be honest with one another."

He looks over at me, golden eyes shimmering.

"You're my best friend."

The car stops in the middle of a field. I gasp as I step out of the car.

A cresent shaped moon and stars dangling in the sky. Too many to count.

He smiles at me and takes my hand, leads me to a fort he has made. Sheets placed on the grass and a pile of pillows. Fairy lights, flowers and a glowing lantern.

There's a pile of sticks and a cigarette lighter.

"I have marshmallows and chocolate, I really hope I remembered graham crackers," he laughs. "Not what you were expecting?"

"Not really."

He digs out blankets and I lay down, my eyes fixed on the twinkling balls of gas in the midnight blue sky. His warm body is next to me, huddled under the blankets.

"This is so stunning. Breathtaking."

"I know."

But he's gazing at me.

"There are stars in your eyes," he murmurs. Pushes some curls out of my face, presses his lips to mine, licks his way into my mouth.

It isn't dark. And I'm not afraid.

He pulls away and sets off to get the fire started. I study him. The glowing fire illuminates his skin but then he turns his head and the side of his face is shadowed.

A sharp jawline and contoured cheekbones. Jet black hair blowing in the wind.

The crackle of the fire and the smell of toasting marshmallows.

He smiles proudly as he comes back over with perfect s'mores.

There's a dribble of chocolate on his chin and my tongue is there to lap it up.

A silly grin and he continues munching.

"Fireflies or lightning bugs?"

"Lighting bugs."

"Wrong again," I laugh. "They're fireflies."

"Whatever." He rolls his eyes. "Are you thirsty? I got that nasty bubbly stuff you like."

"Sparkling water?"

"Yeah that," he chuckles. "Kiwi strawberry."

"Strawberry kiwi," I correct.

"I'm hopeless," he groans. "Never can get it right."

He comes back with a water for me and pink lemonade for him.

"So much better than dinner and a movie."

"I'm glad you like it." A lopsided smile, tongue caught between his teeth.

I swear.

"Don't give me that look."

"What," he asks innocently, a smirk on his face.

"Stooooppp," I giggle.

He has me pinned, his lips peppering my face with kisses. When he nibbles on my ear I feel myself twitch, my hips bucking involuntarily.

"Oh shit," I laugh.

Spilled lemonade. Staining the sheets. Seeping through my jeans. Soaking my shirtsleeve.

He doesn't stop. Just laughs against my neck, my pulse strumming.

"That was my bad," he says when he pulls away. "I ruined everything."

"No you didn't babe."

I purposely pour some of my water onto Zayn and he stares at me, eyes wide, mouth wide open.

"You did not just do that."

"I'm a bit sticky...didn't seem fair."

His tongue flicking over his bottom lip.

"Did you paint on your jeans?"

My hands fisted in his hair, his fingers working at unbuttoning my shirt.

I'm not scared. I repeat it like a mantra. I'm not scared. I'm not scared.

Teeth grazing my neck, mouth gently suctioning.

I. Am. Not. Scared.

My heart is berating me. Pounding in my chest like I'm being chased by a killer.

"You're so starry eyed," he says breathlessly.

That's when my heart stills. When I sit up, let him guide my shirt up over my head.

"Jeans stay on," he pants. "Relax, yeah?"

Nodding, mind in a haze as his hands roam my chest, tongue laps around my hardened nipples.

Hands moving down, squeezing my thighs, nails digging lightly into my jeans

"Z-zayn," I stammer.

My stutter makes him freeze, his eyes meeting mine.

"Can we cuddle?"

Cheeks turning red again at my stupid request. It isn't what he wants.

"Of course love."

He presses to me, his body conforming to mine. Huddled under the blankets.

"We'll definitely have to shower after this," he laughs. "The blankets are okay though."

Two wet bodies. Frigid. Shivering from the wind.

"Sorry again about the spill."

His teeth clatter so I move impossibly closer to him, our legs tangling.

"Better?"

"Much."

My head on his chest, eyes on the sky.

"Maybe this wasn't perfect Zayn but it was damn close."


	10. out of reach

+Zayn  
Mature content

"Are you still cold babe?"

"Maybe a little," he blushes.

"At least all the snow melted. It's much warmer than it has been."

I start packing up but he's quick to help, his trembling hands collecting the pillows.

"Hey it's fine," I smile. "Just get in the car and I'll clean this up. If you get hypothermia I'll never forgive myself."

"Okay," he chuckles. "The wind is a bit chilly and I'm shirtless. This is my fault."

"You thought we were staying inside. Definitely my fault."

I'm not sure why we're throwing blame around but he rolls his eyes playfully and trots off to the car.

I pack up the trunk and get the car started, rubbing my hands together to create some friction.

The heat roars to life and I take a mental sigh of relief.

"Zayn," he says quietly. "You're the only person I've ever dated."

"That's a shame. People don't know what they're missing...music?"

"Sure," he smiles and the radio breaks the silence.

I groan as Stitches comes on.

"Don't disrespect Shawn Mendes. He's cute."

I gasp dramatically, clutch my hand over my chest. "Should I be jealous?"

"Maybe," he teases.

And somehow Harry sings along so perfectly I start to dig the beat; start to hum along.

Then again, Harry can sing anything and sound good. He's just gifted.

I want to lay in the backseat, pull him over the console and into my lap. Let his hair down, my fingers getting lost. Warm bodies and heated kisses, the windows fogging up.

Instead I put the car in drive.

"I've already said this several times but I had a really nice time. Everything was planned out so beautifully Zayn. Mishaps happen. Do you think I'm going to forget smelling like pink lemonade?"

I laugh lightly.

Maybe he's right. It's the imperfections we should cherish more. The silly moments that embed themselves in our hearts, that we tuck away in our memories.

"This is going to sound crazy," he reaches to turn down the volume. "Being raped was terrifying...it made me close myself off, made me forget how to see the good in people but it taught me a lot of lessons too. It also helped me come to terms with my sexuality. I don't know if that makes any sense," he shakes his head. "My stutter got so much worse afterwards."

He's blinking back tears and I'm dying on the inside, trying to keep my conposure.

"But it brought me to you and that's a blessing. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

I'm glad we're close becsuse my vision is blurring and I can't hold back any longer.

My hands want to touch his so badly. I'm aching.

...

Wet ringlets, droplets of water cascading down his skin. Pink flushed cheeks and a beaming smile.

"I'm kind of obsessed with your shampoo. I didn't know you liked coconut."

Moonlight filtering through the curtains. Curls spilling over his forehead.

The trickle of water onto the floor.

His collarbones peeking out from under the towel, his gaze on the floor.

He looks so radiant. An angel with a halo of hair.

I clear my throat, shake the filthy thoughts from my mind.

"I have some hoodies and sweatpants but if you want to wear a pair of my pajamas you can."

"Thanks," he says softly. Pads across the floor and settles on some plaid pajama bottoms and an over-sized shirt.

Something about seeing him in my clothes turns me on. God, I'm so hard. I can't sleep in the same bed as him.

"I um...I should shower too."

Zayn don't jack off in the shower. You're better than that.

But I have no self-control because he's in my bed, curls splayed across my pillowcase. Tattoos peeping through the white t-shirt.

Lavender and chamomile body wash. It's actual torture.

When Harry first walked into my office I felt robbed. He swiftly stole my heart and walked right out.

Flawless, unblemished skin and a sharp, strong jawline. Eyes the palest shade of emerald I had ever seen.

My heart skittering.

I wanted to taste the hot heat of his mouth.

The soft soft heat.

Weak bones, convincing myself I would dissolve to dust.

A quick wank and I finish my shower. He isn't asleep when I crawl into bed. Curls up beside me, nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck.

"Night Harry. I love you."

Muffled, tickling my skin.

"I love you too Zayn."

...

Legs wrapped around my waist, head titled back and mouth parted. Lips obscenely red.

My hands twisted up in his matted curls, lips pressed against his collarbone.

My breath catches in my throat.

Gripping his fragile hips, sucking bruises into the pale skin of his neck.

Placing him gently on the bed. He's smiling up at me, eyes bright.

I crush our mouths together, cupping the sides of his face, straddle his lap and tilt my head back, shifting up the angle. He moans deep into my mouth and the vibrations hit the back of my throat. My thumbs press against his chin right beneath his bottom lip, forcing his mouth open wider. His hands grip at my thighs as my tongue slides into his mouth. I'm demanding but careful all at once. I explore every inch of his mouth, my tongue sliding over the rough roof of his mouth and skimming his tongue. I trace his lips a thousand times over, etching his skin and capturing the soft feeling of his lips. He moans and digs his nails into my thighs. I pull away, just barely and drag my tongue over his lower lip, tugging with my teeth. He whimpers so I detach my lips and position myself on his lap. I smile knowing my lips are just as swollen as his and slowly grind my hips down against him. He's harder than me and that's saying something. I slide my fingers down his throat, my thumbs tracing over his skin and collarbone. 

"You're so beautiful," I murmur against his lips. 

"Zayn." He whispers my name like it's a well kept secret. He looks wrecked, his mouth parting as my lips graze over his neck. His cheeks are flushed baby pink and his curls messily frame his face. 

"Do you trust me?" He nods and I tug his shirt up over his head. He stumbles to his feet and I peel my shift off. Those skinny jeans. Fuck. He wiggles and squirms, sliding them down his thighs.

I'm sporting a semi but Harry has a hard-on. He looks ashamed and bashful as he bites down on his lip. It just drives me wild. "Hey, look at me." I tip his chin up and his eyes are glistening. "It's okay to feel this way. I would never hurt you babe. I promise."

"I haven't gotten off in a long time," he blushes.

I'm sure it wouldn't take much, just a swipe of my thumb over his slit and he would moan. I want to see his face in pure bliss, my hand cupped around his length. The image of my fingers pressing inside of him and my cock twitches.

"Just touch yourself love."

"No...I-I can't do it alone. Please," he pleads.

"Between my legs," I say softly.

"Good boy." He sucks in and bites at his bottom lip, stifling a moan.

My fingers trail over his stomach but this is so different. I'm overwhelmed with desire. I don't just want to touch him, I want to taste him and drink him in like water. His muscles clench and I kiss the sensitive patch of skin beneath his navel. He shivers as my tongue flicks across his stomach. His fingers thread through my quiff sending tingles across my body. I grab at his hips and he straddles my lap. I grip gently at his curls and our lips crash together desperately. It's messy but so unbelievably good. He moans into my mouth deliciously and ruts against my hips...the friction almost unbearable. He whines as I pull away teasingly.

"Lie down love." He always follows my instructions and climbs off my lap. I fit between his legs, my body rubbing against his leaking cock. He's so sensitive to my touch. He bites back a moan and I smile encouragingly.

He grinds his hips down. "Don't keep it in. I want to hear you."

My lips skim his collarbone, my tongue dragging along his flesh.

I nip at his milky skin and suck hard enough to leave a bruise. He groans loudly as I mark my territory. His head falls back against the pillows with a loud thump.

"Please," he begs. His hips press against mine. I have control now.

"Don't be scared," I murmur and press kisses to the corner of his lips before reaching for the lube. He grips at my biceps, tugging me back between his legs. He's so needy. I briefly kiss him before coating my fingers with a generous amount of lube.

He leans against the pillows, his hips thrusting upward ever so slightly. I don't miss a thing.

I reach for his hips, my thumb grazing over his skin soothingly. A hand slips between his legs. He whimpers and wraps his fingers around his length. I take the hint, pressing a finger inside of him. His body clenches and a small moan escapes his lips.

My breath gets caught in my throat as a second finger glides in and his mouth falls open. Harry strokes himself slowly to alleviate some tension but I'm the one that will bring him to the edge. I get to make him feel good.

"More," he chokes out and pushes his hips down on my fingers.

His cock strains against his chest. It's hard and leaking and he looks so disheveled.

I slide in a third finger and he whimpers, his body going limp.

"Too much? Am I hurting you love?"

A simple shake of the head.

He's so unbelievably pretty. His eyes are wide, his mouth cherry red. His cheeks are a rosy mauve. He bites at his lower lip and I question if he's real.

"You're so damn beautiful." My wrist twists and my fingers delve in deeper. His back arches off the bed, a loud moan falling from his lips.

"Z-zayn please."

I slide my fingers out and tear open a condom packet. My fingers tremble as I slide it on and steadily position myself between his legs.

"Are you sure? I don't want to push things. We don't-"

"I'm ready Zayn."

God, if I hurt him I'll never forgive myself.

His mouth falls open into a silent moan and my heart stammers in my chest. I bottom out, my hips pressing against the back of his thighs. His hands grapple for my biceps, digging into my skin as he grinds his hips down.

I pull out again before thrusting hard and fast. I admire every single part of him; the way his back arches and a thin sheen of sweat glistens at his hairline. His curls are tousled, spilling over his eyes. I brush them away because I want to see them. My lips skim over every inch of his body: his chest, his nipples, his collarbone, the side of his throat. I can feel his pulse quicken. His nails dig into my arms as he lifts up, meeting every one of my deliberate thrusts. I hit a bundle of nerves and I can feel him unhinging. He mutters my name and a string of curse words fall from his lips. His eyelids squeeze shut and I know he's close.

"Touch yourself," I order and pull back slightly. His hands go slack as he wraps one around his cock and begins to stroke himself.

I grab his hips, lifting them off the bed; thrusting deeper inside of him. I fuck him harder and faster until my brain is foggy.

I grunt and hold his hips tighter, sensing his orgasm. My movements grow lazy and more jerky as I study Harry, his mouth wide open...a filthy moan escaping his lips. He spills all over and it's enough to make me come.

I discard the condom and push his curls out of his face. He rolls over, wrapping his arms around me.

I wake up drenched in sweat, Harry still sprawled across me.

It was a dream. My god, it was just a dream. It felt so real. I reach out to move some curls out of his face.

Breathe Zayn. This isn't about pleasure. It's about making Harry happy. Stop being so selfish.


	11. nothing else

+Harry  
Mature

"Zayn? You okay babe?"

He's stretched out on the couch, chest heaving.

"M'fine," he replies grumpily.

I chuckle, my hands carding through his soft quiff. Sticky with sweat.

"Bad dream?"

"Not exactly."

"Oh," I blush, picking up on what he means. "I want to make you feel good Zayn, please."

"It's alright. Really Harry."

"No! It isn't. I'm sorry I can't give you everything you need, okay? Just let me try something."

He sighs heavily and sits up. Eyes serious, brows furrowed, deep in thought.

"Okay."

I give a small grin and straddle his hips.

"Hi," I giggle.

"You're so precious."

His fingers brush through my hair and I dip down to kiss him, my body slowly grinding, hips finding a rhythm.

My tongue delves deeper into his mouth, my thumbs pressing softly into his neck.

His hum gets caught in the back of my throat and my fingers are slipping beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. I pull away briefly to tug it off.

I want to feel everything, his trimmed beard, the way it bristles my skin when when we kiss. His strong abs rippling, the way his breath catches when I fondle his nipples.

Kissing and sucking lightly at the hardened buds, letting them soften in my wet, warm mouth.

The way his fingers scratch at my scalp and his head tilts back. The perfect moment to nip at his neck.

To litter a trail of bruises just to hear him moan my name.

Kissing down his chest and his navel, his dark hairs starting to tickle my nose. Inching down his waistband just a bit. A tiny tease before heading back up with my mouth, my tongue flicking over his marked up skin.

And my hand slips between his thighs. His pants plastered to his slender legs. I can feel him strain against the material, a little huff falling from his lips.

I rub through the thin material and his head lolls onto my shoulder, nails digging into my back.

We wants more. We needs more but I'm not sure I'm ready.

"Harry," he rasps out, eyes glazed over as he pulls back looks at me.

"Want me to suck you off?"

"N-no," his voice falters. "Too soon. This was perfect. Just let me finish off," his cheeks flush as his hand dips into his pants, fingers moving diligently.

I try to help him out, my teeth grazing his earlobe, tugging firmly. Tongue etching patterns on his olive skin.

"You are so beautiful," I whisper.

And that's it, him shooting his load into his boxers.

"I'll clean you up babe. Just let-"

But his arms yank me down, my head falling onto his chest.

"Don't worry about it. Just stay here with me."

"Okay," I reply softly.

"That's all I want Harry. Love being with you," he mumbles.

"You have to work tomorrow. Let's go back to bed babe."

"Don't wanna," he pouts.

"Please," I beg. "I'll take you out tomorrow night."

"Really?"

He smirks and I kiss the corner of his mouth.

"Yes really. Come on."

I hop off the couch and he follows me, hand slapping my bum.

"Zayyynnn," I shriek.

He just laughs loudly, sweeps me into his arms, hoists me over his shoulder.

"Where are you taking me Curly?"

"It's a secret."

Places me on the bed, elbows pinning me down.

"Not even a hint?"

"Nope," I chuckle.

Baby pink tongue darting out of the corner of his mouth. A lopsided smile.

"Just tell me."

Hands on my waist, moving downward, thumbs making circles on my hipbones.

"Or what?"

"Or else."

"I'm scared," I say jokingly.

His fingers dig into my sides and I bite my lip to hold back my laughter.

"I know you're ticklish."

I continue to squirm, laughter bubbling out of me.

"Confess Curly."

"But your date idea was a surprise."

I bat my lashes slowly and he kisses my cheek.

My neck. My collarbone. Mouths at my warm shoulder. Bites gently, sucks until his lips are swollen.

Pulls away with a teasing grin.

"I'm not saying anything," I snicker. "Nice try-"

His turn to attack my neck, his warm breath fanning across my skin.

Murmuring into my ear "don't be naughty."

A shiver runs down my spine, my cheeks turning pink.

"Maybe I should just forget about it," I smirk.

"You wouldn't."

Hazel eyes aglow, his little freckle making my heart dip in my chest.

"Do you want to get fired or?"

He chuckles and draws away, muttering something as he goes into the bathroom.

Climbs back into bed beside me, flat on his back, eyes staring up at the blank ceiling.

"There's nothing else I want."

Laces our fingers together.

"I don't want to force things. I don't want to rush. Just unhurried...slow and passionate. I like when we're open and silly. You know what my favorite thing is?"

"What Zayn?"

He pokes my dimple and I grin.

"That bright smile of yours. All of the stars in the sky can't compare."

"Stop," I blush furiously.

"What's your favorite thing about me love?"

My heart skips a beat.

"You make me feel safe."

"I like that. It isn't what I thought you'd say but it somehow feels more intimate."

"What were you expecting?"

"That I'm sexy."

My laughter is muffled against his neck, his arm slings lazily over my back.

"Well that too. I'll give you a hint."

"Okay," his eyes gleam.

"Have a bag full of coins. Loads of them."

"An arcade? I'm a total nerd," he admits. "I love vintage video games and comic books. You bring out that side of me."

"Your nerdy side," I scoff.

"No, my fun side. Are you still working at the music store on the corner of Elm?"

"Yeah."

"Think I'll stop by to see you. Got any good vinyls?"

"Tons, what genre?"

"Just something chill. Good vibes."

"Good vibes," I mock. "Something to smoke weed to."

He elbows my side and I chuckle.

"Hey I've seen you stoned before. Eyes bloodshot. Sunglasses, you were trying to be slick."

"Hush."

"I'll stash some good ones for you. I have a pretty good idea of what you would like. So..what made you want to do speech pathology?"

He shrugs. "Wanted to do art therapy but it was too depressing. I like words, like sounds, the variances in voices and tones. I especially like your voice. When we first met I kind of just wanted to listen to you talk the whole time, not make you do those horrible vocal exercises."

"You just gave me a brilliant idea. I guess I do still have a tiny surprise for you."

He kisses my forehead.

"Good thing I like surprises."

A/N: guys wait until you read about Harry's gift he's so cute 💖💖💖


	12. fuzzy

+Zayn

Ding.

"Your favorite customer!"

He pops up from behind the counter, sweat trickling down his face, messy curls held back by a pink headband.

"I was moving boxes. That's why," he wipes his clammy hands on his shirt, pants a bit "I'm so darn sweaty."

"Heavy?"

"Quite," he leans against the counter to catch his breath.

"I can help you babe."

"Fuck," I follow him to the storage room, veins popping, biceps flexing. "I'm too weak for this. Why did I offer to help?"

"Because you love me."

"I guess," I tease. "Pick out anything special for me babe?"

"You like Gregory Isaacs?"

"Love."

My heart flutters in my chest. How did he know?

"Frank Ocean?"

"Adore," I grin.

"Bon Iver?"

I tilt my head, knit my brows together.

"I dunno, don't listen to him much. What else?"

"Khalid, Grizzly Bear, The Weeknd, Childish Gambino, Milky Chance...just a variety of things."

The sun is setting. Pastel pink and vivid orange. Bursts of color.

"What time do you get off?"

"9:00," he sets down the last box and smiles at me. "That's pretty early actually, I usually close out around 10:30. Is that okay? We can just go out on Saturday or-"

"Do you always work so late?"

He brushes back a stray piece of hair, does something at the register, humming.

"Yeah. Why?"

"You're by yourself," I frown.

"Josh comes in a lot. He's technically the manager. Makes me do the hard work," he chuckles.

"Josh?"

"Yeah," his cheeks flush. "He's uh...a co-worker."

"Obviously," I laugh. "He's your manager. Is he nice?"

"Of course," he says enthusiastically. Almost too cheery. "He gave me a raise last week. He's very neat, very organized...particular. Maybe he'll swing by. I don't know."

"So he owns the place?"

Harry nods, busying himself with something on his laptop.

"What are you doing? You're supposed to be working."

"Inventory spreadsheet."

"Why can't Josh do it? He's the one in charge around here," I sneer.

"Because he's paying me to do it."

"Okay," I say agitated. My fingers tap against the counter. "Does he like you?"

"W-what?" He looks up at me with wide eyes, blinks incredibly slow.

"Is he into guys?"

"Maybe," he shrugs nonchalantly.

"How are you not uncomfortable about being here so late with no one else around? He could bloody-"

"Rape me? Is that what you were thinking?"

Yes.

"No, it's just that," I run my fingers through my hair, sigh heavily "I'm a bit over-protective I guess. Sorry."

He chews anxiously at his bottom lip, stops scrolling on his mouse pad and locks eyes with me.

"We've kissed a few times."

There it is.

"I figured."

"Excuse me?"

"He's totally using you."

He waves me off. "It was a long time ago Zayn. I'm sure it's forgotten. Besides you he's the only person that knows what happened. He gives me a lot of days off because-"

"He knows?"

My jaw clenches. Am I...jealous?

"Yeah. He keeps a gun behind the counter just...just in case."

His gaze drops to the tile floor.

"I told him I was uncomfortable with the whole situation."

"What?"

"I didn't want to be touched."

His hand slips across the counter, fingers tangle with mine.

"Obviously you're an exception."

He smiles sheepishly and my anger simmers.

"Not many customers?"

"Nope. That's why I like it. I usually just sing along to the radio and play computer games. I should find a better job but I um...kind of abandoned uni, never got my degree. My mum was pissed but I didn't want that stress in my life."

"I understand. Accounting wasn't your thing anyway. That is what you were studying when I first starting seeing you, right?"

"Yeah. Sounds miserable yet here I am looking at an Excel spreadsheet."

"Would you ever consider a music career?"

His brows arch, taps his chin in thought.

"I don't know if I'm talented enough. You know I hate crowds. I have stage fright."

"You're such a natural though."

"That doesn't change the fact that I have a stutter," he mumbles.

"Hey, nobody should judge you for that."

I kiss his cheek and there's a familiar ding.

He laughs as I pretend to shop around.

It's a teenager, silver dyed hair and black painted nails. Piercing blue eyes and a muted brown lipstick.

She giggles, twirls her hair around her finger as Harry goes over to talk to her. She scans the pop punk section, long nails trailing over records.

Laughs at something Harry says and he returns a dimpled smile.

She's obsessed and I can't help but chuckle.

Too bad he bats for the other team.

"Is this it?"

She nods, practically drools as he hands her the bag, their fingertips briefly brushing.

"Wow," I exhale. "She was crushing."

He blushes and I hop behind the counter, my arms wrapping around him.

"Me too Curly. Where were we?"

My lips skim his neck but ding.

"What in the hell is going on?"

Stern tone, booming voice. Strong, flexing muscles and a web of tattoos.

Perfectly groomed brows and double pierced ears. He's actually quite attractive.

"Sorry, I-"

"Just kidding mate."

Then he's all smiles, patting my back like we're best buds.

"Harry," he grins. "Is this your boyfriend?"

"Um...yeah. I know I should-"

"Take the rest of the evening off. You two look like fucking models."

"A-a-are you sure?"

"Positive," his eyes flick over Harry and then turn to me. "Not too much fun though. I don't want you limping around my store."

He sends us a wink and I mentally cringe but of course he laughs like it's fucking hilarious.

...

"He creeps me out."

Harry doesn't seem to phased, just tugs at my shirtsleeve and guides me over to the Atari games. 

We play games until our fingers are numb and then he beats my ass at skee ball.

"Betcha can't beat me at air hockey either," he boasts.

"Bring it."

He whines when he doesn't but gravitates towards a claw machine tucked in the corner of the building.

My arms envelope him, head on his shoulder.

"Which one babe?"

"The bear."

He blushes and I kiss his cheek, detangling myself from him.

I'm determined to get that bear, my stomach clenching as the machine grabs at its ear.

"Shit," I mutter.

He laughs and ruffles my hair.

"It's okay. Come on."

I'm stubborn as hell and load more coins into the machine.

It clutches onto its arm. Up, up, up, skillfully moving the joystick. My heart swells as I fetch it out of the machine and Harry hugs it tight to his chest.

"Thank you Zayn."

"Are you going to cuddle me or just the bear?"

He giggles and I press a kiss to his forehead, cooing at how cute he is.

"I have a gift for you."

He reaches into his jacket pocket.

"A mix tape," I gasp.

"Yeah it's a lot of songs I know you like."

"That's really thoughtful," I smile.

"I uh...it's me."

"Huh?"

He buries his face in the bear's fur.

"Why so shy?"

"I covered them."

I don't know what's fuzzier, the stuffed bear or my beating heart.

"Harry," my thumbs press to his cheeks and kiss him, the bear wedged between us. " I love you."

The bear slides to the floor but neither of us bother to pick it up.

The buzz of the games fades into the background.

It's just us, nestled in the corner and I feel like a child again.

He pulls away, his arms still looped around my neck.

"Are you hungry?"

We laugh as my stomach rumbles in response.

"What sounds good?"

"Anything greasy," I laugh.

Pepperoni pizza does just the trick. We share a Coke and his bear takes up a whole seat. It's so cute I snap a photo on my phone.

"Do you think he's hungry?"

"It's a stuffed animal."

He pouts, looks at me with sad eyes. "That's not beary nice Zayn."

I laugh so hard, soda spews out my nose.

He flashes a dimpled grin, proud he made me laugh.

"I'm going to listen to this every night. It can be my life soundtrack."

"There's a lot of sappy stuff," he blushes.

"Harry I know this is technically our third date but I want to make things official."

I'm nervous, wipe my palms on my jeans.

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

He laughs brightly and turns to his new friend.

"Beary, is that even a question?"


	13. dust in the wind

+Harry

"Hey, I didn't know you had a boyfriend. Why didn't you ask off for your date?"

I shrug and continue sorting through the vinyls, making sure they're in alphabetical order.

"What's up with you today?"

"Nothing," I mutter.

Fuck off please and thank you.

"Okay grumps, I'm out of here. Make sure to send me-"

"I've got it," I say through gritted teeth.

Okay, so it isn't his fault I haven't talked to Zayn in two days. Well, I tried but he didn't pick up his phone. I thought the date was magical...maybe we're just moving too fast.

Or I really am some sad charity case and he's laughing his ass off for ever taking things this far.

That's absurd. He obviously likes me.

Which makes me even more confused. I shake away the cobwebs in my brain and the bell dings.

Firery red hair and arms marked with colored tattoos.

"Hi," I smile. "Looking for anything in particular or-"

"You must be Harry."

Usually I'd be creeped out but he has such a chill vibe, grins at me and offers his hand for me to shake.

"I'm Ed, Zayn's best mate. You know it's pretty damn annoying listening to him ramble on about you."

I blush furiously and he chuckles.

"However, I must admit you're very cute in person."

"T-thanks," I clear my throat.

"So you can sing?"

That catches me off guard.

Dammit Zayn.

"Uh a little yeah...not well or anything. I just sing around the house. When I'm cleaning or in the shower."

In the shower? How lame Harry.

"You're funny," he laughs heartily, a genuine smile reaching the corner of his eyes. "I own a pub. Book gigs for live performances. I sing a bit myself. Wanna give it a try next Saturday? 10:00 PM sharp."

"I really appreciate the offer but um...pubs aren't really my thing."

"There's no point in being nervous about it. If you want to crash at my place later you can. Here," he jots down his number and I punch it in my phone. "I'll text you the address. Or Zayn can take you if you're more comfortable with that."

"We haven't really talked much recently."

"Oh," his face falters. "That's odd. He hasn't tried to reach me either but he was going to come over tonight, I'm sure he'd love for you to join. Maybe he's just busy."

"I guess," I sigh.

"Hey, don't take it personally. Sometimes he just needs space. He's like that, you know? He could be planning something romantic for ya."

I laugh and he smiles at me encouragingly.

"He talks my ear off about you. I mean he is in love."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. Just think about this. I have a guitar at my place. We can just have a jam session, a few beers. Kick back."

"That sounds nice Ed. Thank you."

"No problem kiddo."

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Hello?"

"Babe," I feel him smile through the line. "Don't be mad. I broke my phone."

"You broke your phone?"

I laugh at the simplicity.

"I didn't want to just show up at your place and freak you out. I'm stupid. I should have stopped by the music store but-"

"It's fine Zayn. Ed invited me over. Are you still going?"

"Yeah, shit. I need to give him a ring. I'll pick you up. Actually, do you get a lunch break?"

"No. Probably because there's never a soul around."

"Bollocks if you work ten hours you're legally entitled to a lunch break."

I laugh and he says "Harry, I'm serious."

"Tell Ed to order some decent food then."

"Okay babe. How about Japanese? He really likes sushi and I'm craving some chicken teriyaki."

"Sounds amazing. Why'd you go behind my back? You know I'm shy."

"Because you're really good and I'm not just saying that. Fuck your boss by the way. Change the sign to closed and get some damn food."

"Next time I will. He showed up earlier."

"Hmm, that seems a bit odd. Was he touchy?"

"No. I think he was looking for something. He didn't stay long."

"Hey, call me if you ever need anything."

"Now that you have a new phone," I tease.

"Oi, be quiet. I'll see you later love."

"Bye Zayn."

...

Ed pops open his third beer and strums on his guitar.

Alcohol doesn't phase him and his voice is perfect. No slurred syllables or missed chords.

My head is in Zayn's lap, his fingers brushing through my tangled curls.

He sips on something in a solo cup, his warm breath fanning across my neck.

It smells like vodka and cherries.

There's a knock at the door and the takeout is delivered.

Steaming hot egg fried rice and teriyaki chicken.

I sit up and share a takeout box with Zayn who boasts about using chopsticks.

"What type of music do you like?"

"It varies. Indie and British rock mostly. Basically I just feel a song. It doesn't have to belong to a particular genre."

He hums in agreement and pops a California roll in his mouth.

"I understand that. As a songwriter I respect that. Would you humour me and sing?"

"Don't push him Ed."

"No, it's okay. Guitar please."

I scoot away from Zayn and position the guitar. Just inhale. They're not going to judge.

They're not even in the room. It's just you feeling the music, pouring your heart out. Passion. That's what truly matters.

I close my eyes, only for a moment  
And the moment's gone

Ed spits, spewing beer all over the carpet and Zayn chuckles.

"Told ya," he grins proudly.

"Keep singing," Ed prompts. "Bless my ears with your raspy vibrato."

I smile into the next line, the rhythm and the lyrics coursing through me.

All my dreams pass before my eyes, a curiosity  
Dust in the wind  
All they are is dust in the wind

But then Zayn tackles me, throwing his arms around me and Ed is laughing his arse off, eyes watery.

"Smash my guitar and you're dead."

"You're bloody amazing. You know that, right?"

He kisses my cheek, my jaw, my neck...definitely vodka. Wet, sloppy kisses that have me reeling.

His eyes are glossy and my heart is pounding in my chest.

"Jesus," Ed says exasperated. "No sex on my floor."

"Fine," Zayn smirks. "We'll take it back to my place."

"How romantic. Did you tell him how you ruined your phone?"

"Shut up," they roar with laughter.

"How Zayn?" He shakes his head so Ed takes it upon himself.

"He bloody dropped it in the toilet."

"Oh fuck you carrot top. Let's go babe."

"Hey wait."

I hug Ed tightly and he sighs, wrapping his arms around me.

"This was fun. Thank you. I'll see you Saturday."

And he sends me a wink on the way out.


	14. how you know

+Zayn (mature)

"Are you kidding me? I just left."

"I didn't praise Harry on his dexterity. Did you hear that finger plucking? How long has he been playing the guitar? Please ask him for me."

"Why did that sound borderline sexual," I laugh. "Plucking strings. I'll ask him later. You're ruining the mood."

"Oh oops. Are you going to have sex?"

"I'm hanging up on you," I chuckle.

No. We aren't having sex. Cheeky bastard.

A few shared sloppy kisses and a fit of giggles but our clothes stay on.

"Why don't you ever sing for me?"

"You make me nervous," his cheeks flush and I press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Why babe?"

"You're really pretty," he chuckles. "I can't stare at you too long. It's kind of like gazing at the sun too long and going blind. We wouldn't want that, I already have a stutter."

I laugh and pull him into my arms.

"Ed thinks you're an ace guitarist. Where did you learn?"

"Taught myself," he blushes.

"Pretty good with your hands," I tease.

"Zaaayn stop," he buries his face in the crook of my neck. "Can we play video games?"

"Video games," I chuckle. "You don't strike me as a gamer."

"Mario Kart," he grins.

"Now that I can see. Grab a controller and I'll hook up the Xbox. I'm going to beat your sorry ass."

He rolls his eyes and I flop down next to him on the couch.

"You're lucky I even have Mario Kart."

"Whatever, you're a nerd. You hoard comic books."

I playfully slap his shoulder and the game begins with him blowing me in the dust.

"Oh bullshit," I smirk.

He groans as he's hit by a flying sneaker and I bite back laughter.

"That's so not fair."

Harry does not handle second place well.

"Hey, at least you ranked in the top three. They're delivering you a silver trophy."

"Silver is for losers," he sulks.

His head is in my lap in a matter of seconds and my fingers are carding through his tangled curls.

"Make me feel better."

He gives an irresistible pout and I shower him with kisses.

"Zayn...how do know when it's the right time?"

"What do you mean babe?"

His cheeks turn cherry red and he bites nervously at his bottom lip.

"To have sex."

"Oh. Don't worry about that right now. We'll just know when the moment is right."

I feel his body relax. Maybe that put his mind at ease.

"I can still make you feel good if you want."

He tenses up again and I immediately regret it.

"Sorry I just-"

His hands cup my cheeks and he's kissing me hungrily, his tongue parting my mouth.

"I'm winning," his breath fans across my neck.

"This isn't a competition Harry."

"No, because I have you."

Maybe it is the right moment. My heart is pounding in my chest, fingers grazing his jaw.

He's staring down at me with glossy green eyes and swollen lips.

I swear he's an angel with a head of curls as a halo. He looks so radiant, beams of light from the lamp hitting his cheekbones.

He pulls away and my arms are enveloping him, lips mashing against his.

We've always taken things slow but this is different. This isn't tentative or shy. This is passion coursing through our veins and fire in our eyes.

Fireworks in my heart and I'm seeing stars.

Frenized lips and roaming hands. I just want to feel all of him.

I want my lips to fit in dips and curves and my tongue to flick over scars and scattered freckles and dotted moles.

Because I want all of him.

So his shirt is slipping up over his head and I'm pushing him down gently.

"I'm not afraid Zayn."

He's in my arms and I'm carrying him away. There's a beautiful storm in his eyes and I place him on the bed.

"You just know," I whisper.

"I just know," he repeats softly.

There's a cloud of concern in my eyes.

"Are you sure love?"

"I'm never been more certain."

I'm unzipping his tight jeans and tugging them off, tossing them onto the floor. He's nervous and I don't want him to be.

Underwear slipping off.

My lips are on his collarbone and his nipples, making him shiver. His hips buck as I suck gently.

I let my lips linger everywhere too long. Biting his neck. Finding his navel and spending time kissing the back of his knees and the inside of his thighs, making his breath hitch.

I grab for the lube on my bedside table.

"Oooh," he gasps as my teeth tug gently at his earlobe.

I chuckle, my voice muffled against his pale skin.

"Your ears are sensitive."

I pry the cap of the lube open.

Pop.

And I pour a generous amount on my finger before pressing a slicked finger to his ass. He whimpers and I leave an open-mouthed kiss on his shoulder.

"I don't want to hurt you babe. We don't have to do this."

"Please, I want you."

"Tell me if it hurts love."

He nods and inhales sharply.

"I just want a good memory. Help me forget."

Those words are enough for me.

My finger moves again and I add more pressure before stopping to let him adjust.

I'm pleasantly surprised as he begs for more and my finger moves faster, plunges deeper inside of him.

"You're so tight," I press a kiss to his forehead before pressing my middle finger inside of him. "Too much?"

"No," his eyes roll and his head falls onto the pillow with a thud. He screams out, hands fisting the sheets. "Please," he moans. "Want you so bad Zayn."

"You are so beautiful Harry," I leave a delicate kiss on his shoulder before my lips trail down his spine, hands kneading at his bottom. He shivers at the intensity and my fingers slip inside of him. Pushing deeper. I scissor in and out, my fingers diligently stretching him.

Tiny gasps and breathy moans escape his mouth.

"Babe," I pour more lube on my fingers, positioning my fingers with his entrance.

"I-it's okay," he stammers. I hesitantly add a third finger.

"Ahhhh fuck," he moans.

"Does that hurt?"

"No, feels so good."

Droplets of sweat roll down his back and my tongue laps at his skin.

Then it flicks over his spine and I nip at his shoulder.

"You ready love?"

A simple nod and I slip on a condom.

I want him like crazy. It's like I'm trying to devour him, my tongue sliding into his mouth. My lips skim over the bites I left on his neck.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," I murmur.

My hands grip at his hips as I line my trobbing cock with his entrance.

I thrust into him and he pants. I stop as he cries out. He needs a moment.

"Relax," I whisper and trail kisses down his spine.

"You can move now," his face flushes.

I start out slow but clutch tighter at his hips as I start to move faster. I find a rhythm, in and out, in and out. A dizzying pace that makes him bite down on his lip, stifling obscene sounds. 

"Open your legs a little more love."

Each thrust is careful and his body quivers at the sensation. His cock pulsates as it grazes the sheets and his back arches up off the bed.

He stiffens and then spasms, moaning my name as he dirties the sheets.

"Can you take it baby? Just a little more?" He nods and my thrusts begin again. I swivel my hips and change the angle, hitting his sensitive bundle of flesh. 

"Shit," he moans. "Wha-what was that?"

"Your prostate. Did that feel good?"

"Mmm."

My hips snap forward. I bury myself in him, hitting him relentlessly over and over again. Our moans mix, gasps and hallow breaths fill the dark room. The air is hot, the sheets smell like body wash and perspiration.

My mouth assaults his skin and heat pools on his lower stomach. My teeth nip at his skin as my hips continue to grind into him.

He shudders, his legs trembling. The bed quakes and he comes again.

"Are you okay?"

"Better than okay. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything."


	15. sticky curls and sappy words

+Harry

His fingers card through my sticky curls.

My erratic heartbeat stills as my eyelids flutter closed.

"S'that feel nice?"

I hum contently and his lips skim my cheek. His stubble scrapes my skin but I don't want him to shave.

Everything is perfect as is. I wouldn't change a thing.

There's a soft light in his amber eyes and his face is glowing.

He looks so ethereal.

"Have I ever told you that your skin looks like caramel?"

A small chuckle as I nestle up beside him.

"You have now."

"I didn't know it could feel that good," I blush furiously. "You did everything you could to ensure that-"

Warm tears I have to fight back.

"You didn't hurt me."

"No more bad dreams okay? I'm right here."

I nod and curl back up beside him.

"Intimacy shouldn't scare you. I know what happened to you was horrifying but I don't want that to come between us."

His voice is so soft, words so kind I can't stop them from falling.

"Shh, don't cry love."

"My nightmares betray me. You don't understand. It's you but then again it isn't. It's your voice and your face but you want to inflict pain. You're a sadist."

That sounds so crazy tumbling from my mouth because he's caressing my cheek and kissing my forehead.

He would do those things to me. He'd never force me into anything, never tie me up or gag me. Never pound into me relentlessly, ingoring my cries and pleas for him to stop. He would never use me for his own pleasure.

"It feels so real. Usually it's memories of what happened but the closer we get the more you infiltrate my dreams. The more you-"

"I love you," he murmurs.

I let that sink in. It's so honest and raw my heart dips in my chest.

And my lips find his.

Slow exploration, my tongue delving inside his mouth.

The rustle of the sheets and the sound of my heartbeat.

I'm utterly lost.

His eyes search mine.

Gold meeting green. Caramel skin mixed with white chocolate.

He's so warm I'm melting.

"I don't think I need to go to your appointments anymore."

"That's going to be strange. I'm so used to you sulking on the sofa and me jotting down notes...scribbling all of the things I find beautiful about you."

"No way," my cheeks flush.

"Guilty," he grins. "Sometimes I'd get bored."

"You're still a good listener."

"Partially because I love the sound of your voice," he chuckles. "But mostly because I care about you. You make me soft."

"Bollocks Zayn, you're always soft."

More laughter and I'm nuzzling into his side.

"You're such a kitten Harry."

"Stop," I groan.

I nearly purr as his fingers find themselves in my tangles again, brushing out tiny knots.

Maybe he's onto something.

"When you first started coming you wouldn't even talk to me. We've come so far."

I remember it like it was yesterday, Zayn talking about random things, smile sprawled across his face.

He tried so hard and I despised that.

I hated that he was so happy. It all felt fake to me. He didn't want to help me. My mum was paying for my appointments.

Surely he was just in it for the money.

But the more he told me about himself, the more I got to know him, the harder it was to stay quiet.

Zayn is genuine and compassionate. He'd never do something for his own gain. He loves to help people.

I also hated that I felt so immediately drawn to him; so attracted.

Soft honey colored eyes and his tongue caught between his teeth.

His beauty was intimidating. Why couldn't I have appointments with a wrinkly old lady?

It just had to be Zayn.

I break the silence. "Why me?"

"What?"

"Out of all the people you could be with, why me?"

His lashes graze over his cheeks as he blinks, he's lost in thought, brows knitted together.

"Because you make my heart happy."

It's a silly response but it's heartfelt. I know the feeling.

Every moment I spend with Zayn I think to myself about how lucky I am.

He's my best friend.

"There's somewhere I want to take you Zayn."

"I'd go anywhere with you," he smiles.

"You're so sappy."

He chuckles and gets up. The bed shifts under his weight when he crawls back into bed.

"Beary," I hug the fuzzy bear to my chest.

"Yet I'm the sappy one."

I poke my tongue out at him.

"Fine, I'll just cuddle Beary. You get nothing."

He's on me in a matter of seconds, scattering kisses on my face.

"He can't make you feel good."

His eyes are glimmering and my heart is pounding.

"What is this...round two?"

He pushes a curl out of my face.

"No I just want to kiss you."

"Okay," I blush.

He stays true to my word, his lips finding mine.

"We're so lazy. Don't wanna go to work tomorrow."

Sprawled across the mattress, his fingers tangled in my hair.

"I'll bring you lunch."

"You don't have to do that Harry."

He smiles fondly at me.

"Samosas?"

His grin widens as she scoops back down to kiss me.

"I'll take that as a yes," I giggle. "Maybe if I ask off early I can-"

"I can pick you up babe, just tell me where we're going."

"Well geez Zayn, I don't want to spoil it."

He rolls his eyes playfully.

"Fine," I sigh. "We're going bowling."

"Bowling? I haven't gone bowling in-"

The light escapes his eyes and my heart sinks.

"That sounds like so much fun Harry. Does the bowling alley still have those great ice cream floats and vintage Coke bottles?"

I nod and he chews at his lip.

"There's somewhere else I want to go after a few games. You in?"

"Absolutely."

"I have it all planned out. It isn't going to top your stargazing date but I'll try to-"

"Hey," he says gently. "It doesn't matter what I do with you Harry. I love you. I cherish every moment we spend together."

Sappy.

He reads my mind.

"Don't you dare say it."


	16. shattered screens

+Zayn

It's strange seeing Harry back on the couch, a smile sprawled across his face.

"I told you not to bring me lunch."

"Right," he grins cheekily. "I just didn't listen. I have to get back to work soon, I'll see you later."

He kisses my forehead and I sigh and bite into another samosa.

"I want a burrito bowl next time," I joke.

"Done deal," he laughs. "Can't wait to beat you at bowling."

He sends a wink and is gone is a flash.

A few more clients and I'm free. It really isn't a taxing job. I enjoy helping people improve their speech, listen to them spill a few personal problems.

But I've grown so used to Harry's smile and the taste of his lips.

He has a surprise planned. Maybe a drive-in movie or stroll through the park.

Harry is unpredictable. It makes me giddy with excitement and I can't focus on my paperwork for a new potential client.

I get a call from an unfamiliar call but something compels me to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hey Zayn it's Josh from the music store. Harry was supposed to return to his shift twenty minutes ago. Is he still with you?"

"No, that's really strange. He would never show up late to work. Have you checked the storage room?"

"Listen mate, I don't want to freak you out but I've looked everywhere. I rang him a couple times. Should I...call the cops?"

This is wrong. So wrong. I rub at my temples and take a deep breath.

Be calm. Think logically.

"Maybe I should try calling him. If he doesn't pick up I'll take care of it."

It goes straight to voicemail and my body is rigid.

The room suddenly feels so cold.

He was just here. How could he disappear?

Calling the police feels like a last resort but I figure I don't have any other choice, my fingers tapping nervously at my desk.

Running a missing person's report. It feels surreal and I shiver.

Was that the last time I'll ever see him? What if-

I shake the thought away. That's absurd. Harry is just fine.

We're going to share a root beer float and kiss until we're dizzy.

I'm startled as my phone rings and pray it's Harry.

The music store again.

"Any news?"

"Fuck," I pull at my hair. "I was hoping you'd have good news. I called the police. I have no idea where he'd go. Should I go home just in case?"

"I would just to be sure. If something is wrong the police will get to the bottom of it. I promise."

I shake the cobwebs from the corners of my mind and fumble to get the keys in the ignition.

It feels like a sick game.

Stepping on the pedal, running a red light and slamming on the brakes.

My place is dark, I call out his name anyway but I'm met with eerie silence.

I grind my teeth, shout out the top of my lungs.

Another call and I'm scrambling to tap the answer button.

"Zayn."

Harry.

Screaming mixed with sobs and labored breaths.

"I called the police. Where are you babe?"

It's such a relief, hearing his voice. I bite back tears.

More shallow breaths and the shouting intensifies.

"S-sorry," he pants. "I'm running. I can't-"

The line goes dead and my fist nearly collides with the wall.

"Fuck!"

My jaw clenches and before I can register what's happening stuff is spilling off the kitchen counter, glass shattering as it hits the ground.

What did he get himself into? Is he hurt?

Ring. Ring.

"He's back! Looks a little bruised up but-"

I rush out the door. I'm not that far from the music store, my feet colliding with the pavement.

There's a ding as the door flings open and he's crumpling in my arms, heart pounding out of his chest.

A bruised cheek and a bloody nose but he's in my arms and everything is okay.

"I'm so sorry Harry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry-"

Repeating it like a mantra because it's my job to protect him.

"It was him," he chokes out. "I'd remember those eyes anywhere. They've haunted my dreams for so long. I know-"

"One of your..."

Rapists.

"Attackers? Harry that can't be right. They were sent to prison ages ago."

"No," he growls. "It was him."

His eyes grow dark and he's stumbling back, wiping blood onto the back of his hand.

"I dropped my phone. I was shaking and...I don't know where it is now."

"Okay," I pull him back into my arms, lips pressing to his neck. "It's okay. We can get you a new one. Don't worry about that right now. I was so worried."

My thumb strokes across his forehead and I gently kiss his bruised cheek.

Josh comes back with a first aid kit but Harry won't stop trembling and we can't treat his wound. 

"Hey," look at me. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I'll never doubt you again. Just be still babe."

He nods and I tip his head back, press a wipe to his nose.

There's a small wince but he's incredibly strong.

Harry has been through hell and back and never complains.

"Rain check on the date," he jokes.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight. We're cuddling all night."

He chuckles, his head falling onto my shoulder.

"Zayn," he whispers shyly.

"Yes love?"

"I'm still scared," he admits.

"No babe, it's okay. I'm here now."

I stroke his hair until his breathing steadies, his chest pressed to mine, heart beating softly.

"Why," he croaks out. "Why me? Why again?"

"I don't know," I reply truthfully.

"Zayn I need you. Don't let me go."

Josh blinks back tears and gives us space. My lips press to his warm cheek and he buries his face in the crook of my neck, curls tickling my skin.

"I think we should go home. Let me talk to Josh."

I feel terrible for ever being suspicious of him.

He says Harry can have the rest of the week off and I thank him repeatedly.

"You'll be happy to hear I installed a new security system. I won't let him leave the shop without you."

"Come on."

Harry slips his shaking hand into mine and I kiss his hand.

"There's nothing you could have done Zayn. I d-don't want you to feel guilty."

I lay him down gently on the bed and scatter kisses all over his face. He giggles and I drop onto the mattress.

He curls up beside me and I turn the lamp off.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he says breathily.

"I bought a nightlight."

"You're all I need Zayn."

A lingering kiss on his neck before I gather the strength to say "I love you so much Harry, I promise I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

"I love you too Zayn."


	17. sleeping in

+Harry

"Zayn," I clutch onto his hand, squeeze my eyelids shut.

It gets better.

I try to convince myself but my heart is pounding out of my chest, sweat pooling at my forehead. I'm struggling to breathe, my chest tight.

He pulls me close, his arms wrapping around me.

My security blanket.

"You're feverish."

I want him to fix the ache; the emptiness inside. I can't get over this alone.

"I'll get you a glass of water, hold tight-"

"No," I croak, eyes wide in fear. "Don't leave me Zayn. Just stay here."

"Harry," he sighs heavily.

Harreh. Harreh. Harreh.

My lips find his in a mad frenzy, my body gently pressing to his and his arms loop around my neck loosely, his tongue diving into my mouth.

It's a temporary distraction, his gentle hands moving to card through my curls, his moans hitting the back of my mouth.

He pulls away, eyes wild, raven black hair tousled.

"You alright?"

I nod, my mind in a fog.

"M'not going anywhere. I want you to know that."

He strokes my cheek, my heavy lids closing. I melt into his familiar touch.

"You need some sleep babe."

I nod sheepishly, my head falling onto his chest.

"You're okay now. I'll never let anyone hurt you."

When we're snuggled up beneath my covers I believe it.

But when I close my eyes I'm met with worlds of hurt.

"Faggot, you can run but you can't hide!"

Running as fast as I can, my legs pounding against the coarse pavement, fists pumping.

Labored breathing, telling myself not to be a sissy.

Turn around and pop him right in the jaw.

I just can't. I'm terrified and I need Zayn. He's all I can think of.

My eyes fly open. Zayn is sound asleep but I can't seem to get any peace of mind.

I nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck, his caramel skin warming me up.

Go to sleep. This is pathetic. I fight back tears, my eyes closing once more.

"Just fucking take it you piece of shit."

My heart is made of paper. Weak and crumpling; being ripped to shreds.

There's piss in my hair. I can feel bile working its way up my throat.

That isn't the worst part so I do as they say.

Shut up and take it. Submission is always the easiest. I can't fight it.

I wake up trashing about, gasping for air. My chest is so heavy it feels like someone is pressing me down. I'm suffocating and Zayn switches on the lamp on the beside table.

"Harry," he whispers. "I'm still here."

"You're still here," I repeat, tears streaking down my face.

"It was just a dream."

The pad of his thumb swipes over my cheek, his own eyes glistening.

"I would die for you. You know that right?"

I'm biting my tongue hard, silent sobs racking my body. I nod my head and his arms envelope me.

"I don't want that to ever happen Zayn. I'm not worth it."

"Never say that again," he growls.

There's a hurricane in his eyes and it sends a deep shiver down my spine.

But then he's kissing me so softly I forget about it.

"Go back to sleep. Dream of me," he smirks.

"Okay," I giggle. "That sounds easy."

"Good," he hums, lips pressing to my forehead.

It works, my mind spinning pictures of honey colored eyes with flecks of green and a tiny freckle. A smile, tongue pressed behind his teeth and his hands ruffling my hair.

We're laughing about something and he tickles my sides. I beg for him to stop but he doesn't let up.

He would never hurt me. Never.

I push him off me and he pins me down, legs straddling my sides, tongue licking its way into my mouth.

My heart is thudding, his teeth moving to my neck, scattering bites and sucking bruises.

A gasp escapes me, his knee nudging my legs apart. I can feel his growing erection against me.

He stops and I blush furiously.

"Too fast?"

"No," I reply breathlessly.

"Harry," he sighs.

"Harry."

I open my eyes and he grins at me.

"Guess what time it is?"

"I dunno," I groan, mashing my face into the pillows.

"It's eleven o'clock."

I'm completely frazzled, jumping out of bed and tugging on jeans.

"I've wasted half the day."

"I wouldn't say wasted," he gives a lopsided smile. "You needed the sleep babe."

He's right but I want to do something with him, the gears in my head churning.

"Can we grab something to eat? Shop a bit?"

"Yeah, that sounds nice."

He's already dressed, hair perfectly groomed, skin glowing.

"Tacos?"

I'm up for it and hastily tug on some boots.

"Sounds great."

Zayn puts up with me eating half the queso and lets me go to countless stores.

"Do you like those?"

I shrug, eyes fixed on the sparkly boots he points to in the display window.

"They're alright. Not for that much money."

"I'm getting them for you."

I shake my head firmly and slip my hand into his.

"Let's keep going," I chuckle.

We spend half an hour in a thrift shop. He teases me for buying more patterned shirts and vintage jeans.

"They're bum flattering."

He agrees and I get lost in Urban Outfitters, halfway intrigued and halfway skeptical as to why people spend so much on things you could make yourself.

"Shall we take a stroll through the park?"

I giggle, my head falling onto his shoulder.

"We shall Zayn."

His fingers lace with mine. I have on a heavily knit jumper and he has on a chunky bomber jacket.

The wind is frigid and my teeth clatter.

"When did it get so bloody cold?"

"Well," he chuckles. "It's snowing."

White downy flakes get caught in his jet black hair. I rub my hands together for friction and we decide on going back home.

"It's settled," he shivers as he shuts the door.

"What babe?"

"This calls for hot chocolate."

"Agreed."


	18. flickering flames

+Zayn

"Marshmallows?"

He nods and I add some whipped cream before dropping in mini marshmallows.

There's the roar of the fireplace, the crackle of logs and Harry sitting in front of it, a knitted afghan over his lap.

"Babe," I tap his shoulder, a mug of steaming hot chocolate in my other hand.

"Thanks," he smiles softly and blows on it before taking a sip, a dab of cream sticking to his upper lip.

His tongue pokes out to clean it off and I sit down beside him, my hand tracing circles on his lower back.

"You okay?"

"I don't understand. I thought this was over a long time ago, things were actually getting better. I was making progress. It's so frustrating."

He sets down his mug and rubs at his temples, his eyes flickering like the licking orange flames.

I find myself at a loss for words. What am I supposed to say? I can't comfort him. It was my job to protect him and I failed.

"There's no way you would have known," he mutters.

Always reading my thoughts.

"What if his friend is still out there somewhere?"

We both shudder at the thought, the air in the room suddenly frigid. He scoots closer to me and I put our mugs on the coffee table, huddle under the blanket with him.

His body is a radiator. My fingers massage his scalp and he rests his head on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry Harry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he grits. "Let's not talk about it."

"Okay," I reply timidly. "Babe, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

"That sounds ominous."

I chuckle and he gives a dimpled smile.

"It's not that bad. I just want you to know I love you for who you are. I'm not with you because I pity you. Harry, you're so special to me. You always find the silver linings in bad situations and you know exactly what to say to make me smile. You're beautiful and brilliant and talented-"

"Beautiful?"

I cup his face in my hands, my eyes meeting his.

"Beautiful," I echo.

He blushes deeply, cheeks tinted scarlet.

"Do you want to watch a movie?"

He shakes his head, eyes fixed on the floor, fingers playing with the hem of his jumper.

It makes my heart twinge in pain. I feel so helpless.

"Tell me what you want to do love."

"Nothing," he mumbles.

There's no light in his eyes, just the reflection of the fire. His lashes cast shadows when he blinks. 

The fire creates more shadows, the flames dancing on the walls.

It's eerily quiet. Another snap and he reaches for his mug, shoulders hunched.

He looks dejected.

Why don't I say something? Anything?

"Please don't be scared. I'm here now."

"I'm not scared."

His voice cracks and he bites his bottom lip, eyes watery.

"It's okay if you are but you don't have to be."

"Stop," he jerks his hand hot chocolate sloshing onto his jeans. There's a pained hiss and I nab his mug.

"Sorry," I choke on a sob. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"No," he squeezes his eyes shut. "You'd never hurt me. That's the thing Zayn."

He exhales, eyes snapping open. "You try so hard to make sure I'm okay. I feel like...I can't explain it. I'm not worth the trouble okay? They used me and-"

"Harry," I set my jaw tight and pull him onto my lap, my thumbs wiping at his cheeks. "Don't talk like that."

And my mouth is on his, my moist tongue slipping into his mouth. His fingers get lost in my quiff. 

When I pull away my heart is thudding and he bites back a smile.

"Why are you holding it in?"

A full grin, my hand ruffling his curls.

"Are you still interested in doing a gig? Ed completely understands you not wanting to perform for awhile but he thinks you're incredible and so do I."

"Actually, that might help me get my mind off things. Tell him I'm up for it, just need to do a mic check."

My heart flutters a bit and he smiles warmly, hands wrapping around the handle of his mug.

"I won't spill it this time."

Sounds fill the room; sloppy kisses and little gasps. His moans hitting the back of my throat and me showering him with compliments.

"Okay I lied," he pants. "I'm down for a movie."

I roll my eyes playfully and set up Netflix.

"What genre babe?"

"Romance," his cheeks flush and he covers his face with his hands.

"Hey, don't be shy. You know how much I love 500 Days of Summer."

He groans and nuzzles his face in the quilt, voice muffled.

"What babe?"

"It's depressing."

"Pretty Woman?"

There's a timid nod and we move to the couch, my arms looping around him, nose pressing to the crook of his neck.

His curls smell like warm brown vanilla sugar. He giggles as the tip of my nose tickles his skin.

"Are we going to snog or watch the movie?"

"We can do both," I reply cheekily. "Do you want some soup?"

"You sound like my mum," he chuckles.

"Let's bake cookies when this ends."

"I'm on board with that. Snickerdoodle?"

It's perfectly fine with me, my lips pressing to his jawline.

"I can't focus babe. We can do that later."

"Does me touching you make you uncomfortable?"

"N-no."

That doesn't change the fact that he flinched. It stings a lot and I have to bite my tongue to hold back tears.

I scoot away from him a bit and he remains put, eyes glued to the screen.

Maybe he just needs space.

That's understandable, right?

"I'm not feeling this. I think I'll just get started on the cookies."

He nods silently, fingers fumbling in his lap.

We just kissed, why is he acting so strange? Maybe it was too soon but he's my boyfriend. I love him. I have the right touch him.

"Harry," I say softly. "I love you."

He gazes up at me and pauses the movie.

"I love you too, please never doubt that."


	19. cookies are everything

+Harry (mature)

My soul shivers again and again, my heart quivering.

I want his warmth pressed against me. My body trembles as I pull the blanket tighter around me.

Stop pushing him away. You love him. You love him so much, your heart weeps in his absence.

He returns with a smile that instantly warms me up and a tray of freshly baked cookies.

"Zayn," I whisper softly. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

Tears are spilling from my eyes and he neglects the cookies, just wraps me up in his arms like I'm the most fragile thing he's ever touched.

"I never meant for any of this to happen. I hate that you're involved in all this," I sniffle and he gently kisses my cheek, his lips evaporating my tears.

"Harry don't say that. I need you as much as you need me. You coming to my appointments made my life so much happier. I would count down the time until it was time to see you; shoot glances at the bloody clock. That sounds silly but I always looked forward to seeing you, to hearing your voice and making you smile. Your laughter is light."

How does he do that?

"You're so romantic," I giggle, face nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

"The cookies are getting cold."

"I'm just as sweet," I joke, my curls tickling his skin.

"Mmm," he hums in agreement and I pull back to look him in the eyes. Skin like caramel, eyes like warm amber. "Don't tease me Harry."

"Or what?"

"I'll punish you," he says gruffly, teeth grazing my neck.

"I-I'll be good."

He chuckles, tugging at my earlobe.

"Babe don't be shy. Come on," he coaxes huskily, his breath fanning across my flesh. He licks his lips, eyes serious. "Are you sure you aren't uncomfortable? You can tell me if you are."

"No," I mumble. "I like this. I want this."

"You want me?"

"Yes," I pant breathlessly as he lifts me up, his hands looping around me. They slide to my waist as my legs bracket his hips.

There's a frenzy of kisses along my neck and jawline and I feel dizzy.

He swoops down and sets me on the bed.

"I'll take your mind off things."

His hand caresses my cheek and my eyelids flutter closed.

I feel the softness of his lips and his hands roaming my body and I'm not afraid.

This touch is so different.

But I'm hesitant. My body feels so used and so neglected. I feel worthless, like he pities me. Nobody would actually want this.

There's still that feeling in my stomach, it clenches like an angry fist.

My eyes snap open. Why am I like this? It's Zayn. He'd never hurt me.

I'm not worthless. Stop fucking lying to yourself.

He notices how unsettled I am and pauses his affection.

"We don't have to do this. It's okay kitten."

"Kitten?" My heartbeat is erratic and he lies beside me, tucking me into his arms.

I snuggle deeper into the covers and he laughs.

"Do you like it?"

Laughter bubbles from my chest and he kisses my temple.

"Guess I wasted a batch of cookies."

"I'm still going to eat them, you know I will."

His body shakes as laughter erupts from him.

"It isn't that I'm scared of you. I trust you-"

"It's okay, you just need time. I understand Harry...I love you."

My heart trills each time he says it.

"Please," he pleads, his hand shaking on my cheek. "Don't hide from nm Harry."

There's a sharp intake of breath and the hurt in his eyes transfers to me. In pains me so much I nearly sob.

"Don't leave me."

Zayn is sentimental and extremely passionate but he's never been this vulnerable and it frightens me.

"Why would you ever think that?"

His breath hitches, his voice snagging on I'm sorry

"What?"

"I haven't done a good job protecting you. I'm your boyfriend I should be able to-"

I've lost him, I can feel it as he lowers his gaze and squeezes his eyelids shut.

"You shouldn't feel guilty. Ever," I add sternly. "Your kitten loves you."

His eyes search mine as he bites back a grin. In a matter of seconds my mind is reeling, his fingers threading through my curls.

I mewl and he kisses the corner of my mouth.

"What's wrong kitten?"

Then he does it again. This time with certainty, my mouth parting as his tongue slides in my mouth.

He's on me, his weight shifting as he changes his angle, his attack on my mouth relentless.

It's a different kind of assault. My heart is pounding but I don't want it to stop. Even with his hands slipping up under my shirt and the bed swaying.

My pale blue jumper comes off along with my jeans.

He pins my hands above my head and I don't fight it. Everything is under control.

It's just his tongue flicking over my nipples as I squirm and him looking at me from under those long dark lashes. My cheeks flush and my body grows hot, lust erupting inside me like a volcano.

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and my body thrusts upward involuntarily.

Too much space between us. I want to rut against the sheets, my erection growing.

"Thought you didn't want this kitten."

The tone of his voice sends chills down my spine. My entire body is aching for him, my cock throbbing.

"I changed my mind," I smirk.

He has so much control over me. He taps at my knee and I lift my legs a bit, spread them for him.

"Just wanna suck you off."

His mouth latches to my member, his tongue trailing over my tip, hand pumping at the base. He starts bobbing his head, finding a good rhythm and my bare bottom skims over the sheets.

He gets rough, his other hand tugging at my hair and I don't mind.

Role-play has always sickened me. I'm glad Zayn isn't it to that. I can't believe people would fantasize about rape. I shudder slightly at the thought but Zayn's hand moves to my smooth thigh before fondling my sack.

It's somewhat new to me, someone taking the time to explore every inch of me. I know Zayn is admiring me. That this is special to him.

I'm not just some toy.

His eyes flick over me as he glances up. My cheeks flame, a droplet of sweat dripping down the nape of my neck.

He moves, his mouth pulling away and I protest.

"Zayn I...but I didn't-"

I moan shamelessly as his hand pumps, his thumb circling my sensitive head.

And I squirt. All over his tan skin. He catches most of it in his mouth, the milky substance dribbling down his chin.

"Oh god," I whimper.

It's a sight to see and my head falls limply onto the pillow. His raven black quiff is a mess, a thin sheen of sweat covering his ripped chest. With the swipe of his thumb he collects it off his chin and sucks it off.

"Just a sec babe."

He returns with a damp towel and wipes me clean.

"Feeling better?"

I nod timidly and he laughs, cuddling me, peppering kisses all over my face.

"I kind of want a cookie now."

That makes him burst into laughter and it's infectious, the two of laughing until we feel no hurt.

"Cookies are everything," he grins.


	20. a thousand times over

Zayn

"Are they warm enough?"

"They're golden brown perfection," he grins widely. "Thank you."

He shivers and I wrap the blanket around him.

"Always cold kitten. Let's get out of this house for a bit...we should go ice skating."

His eyes glisten and he perks up, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"That sounds fun."

"It's settled," I say excitedly. "Get dressed babe."

He tugs on a baby pink hoodie and some dark wash skinny jeans. Short tan Chelsea boots and a black long line coat.

"How do I look?"

A little twirl and a dimpled smile and I can't help myself from scattering kisses all over his face.

"You always look handsome."

That's how we wind up fingers entwined on a thick sheet of ice, my lankly legs unsteady.

Harry picks up speed much to his demise, pulling me down with him as his bum hits the ice.

"Ow," he chuckles lightly. "That'll leave a bruise."

"Oh," I frown. "Is your ass sore?"

I try to bite back my smile as he pouts and I pull him onto his feet.

He latches onto the crook of my arm as we skirt around the rink again.

"Let's rest a bit, yeah?"

Harry nods his head and we stop at the wall and manage to make it to a bench.

"What do you want to do later babe?"

He shrugs, head falling onto my shoulder.

"Board games?"

It's a stupid suggestion but he lifts his head slowly.

"Okay, sounds fun."

Harry is the silliest person I've ever met, proving it after making me laugh so hard I cry playing Jenga. Headbandz is equally as hilarious, my sides hurting as my body shakes with laughter.

"Have you ever had chicken gnocchi soup?"

"No," he giggles, stomach rumbling. "Sounds delicious though."

"Alright," I smile. "Come help me in the kitchen."

He wraps his arms around my waist. "What do you need babe?"

"Do you mind chopping some celery and carrots while I find the spinach?"

"Not at all."

He skips around the kitchen proudly, knife dicing like a pro.

I chuckle as I prepare the broth and give it a taste.

"Needs something."

"Salt and lots of pepper," he teases.

"Alright Mr. Critic. I appreciate it."

It turns out delicious, Harry happily scoops more into his mug.

"Who eats soup in a cup? You eat it in a bowl."

"Me. Obviously," he rolls his eyes and I push him playfully.

"I really like spending so much time with you."

"Me too," he sighs, chin rested on his hand. "I'm not bored with you...yet."

"Oh that's rubbish," I scoff. "You'll never grow tired of me."

"You're right," he grins sheepishly. "You are too good to me. Besides, I need you."

I need him too, straddling his lap, hands gripping his hips. My mouth is all over the place, my body slowly rutting against him. He pants into my ear, head falling onto my shoulder as my lips suck lovebites into his neck.

"Zayn," he moans.

"You good kitten?"

"I'm hard," he pouts. "Take care of it for me please."

An adorable pout and I chuckle against his skin before moving off of his lap and lifting him into my arms. My arms carry him surely to the bedroom, his body light as a feather.

"Hi," he gives me a dimpled smile as I set him gently on the bed.

"Hello," I laugh lightly. "Do you know how beautiful you are?"

His cheeks turn a deep shade of crimson.

"I do now. Thank you very much Zayn."

His eyelids flutter closed as my fingers card through his chocolate coils.

"You sleepy babe?"

"Mhmm," he murmurs. "Full and sleepy."

"Getting softer down there too. We can just cuddle if you want."

"Yes please."

I curl up beside him, my arms enveloping him.

"Zayn I love you. I know I don't say it enough but I mean it. I appreciate everything you do for me."

"I love you too. Please never feel guilty about your nightmares. I get them too sometimes."

"Really?"

I nod silently, my heart heavy. "It's always me...that hurts you and it scares me shitless."

"You'd never hurt me. Don't feel bad about it, it isn't real."

Deep down I know he's right but it doesn't settle the sinking feeling in my stomach.

"Why do bad things happen to good people?"

"I dunno babe but it makes us stronger. You didn't deserve anything that happened to you but it made you who you are and I have never met such a resilient and determined person. You inspire me so much."

"Really?"

"Seriously. I wish I had half the strength you have. You're incredible Harry. Always happy, always ready for a new adventure. Even though people have hurt you...you're still so trusting of me and you touch people."

He kisses my jaw, warmth radiating from his body as he presses against me.

Harry makes me feel just as safe. We're both vulnerable; both sensitive.

I can picture us in this position years from now, just as comfortable and just as content.

There's so much more I want to do with Harry before I ask him to be mine but I can see him in my future.

He's the one thing I'm sure of. I have complete certainty that we'll still be here for each other when we're old and gray.

Everything else can fade away, as long as I still have him.

I hear soft snores and pull up the covers, snuggling deeper. His skin smells like brown sugar and vanilla. Warm and sweet and as smooth as velvet.

My lips press to the crook of his neck gently, careful not to stir him.

He looks like an angel with a halo of curls, cheeks cherry red, skin like porcelain.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you," I whisper. "You're so special to me. I thank God every day for your stutter. That must sound crazy but I would have never met you otherwise. I love you, a thousand times over."

Luckily, he doesn't wake. He stays just like that, legs tangled with mine.


	21. forest fire

+Harry

The glint of early morning light through the curtains wakes me up. I stretch, a small yawn turning into a smile as I kiss Zayn's knitted forehead.

His little crease vanishes as he turns over in his sleep. I stroke some soft tufts of jet black hair away from his face. His hairline is sticky with sweat, forehead glistening.

It pains me to see him so troubled and restless, his under-eyes dark from lack of sleep. His cheekbones look sharper, his frame thinner as he shifts positions again.

"Zayn," I whisper. His eyelids flutter open, his face flushed.

For a moment he's completely drained of color. It takes a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth for it to wash back over his skin.

"What happened babe?"

He sits up frantically, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

"I thought you were gone," he answers hoarsely. "They took you from me and I c-couldn't stop them."

He's choking on words, swallowing down syllables like I usually do. It's normal for me to stutter but when he does my body shudders.

"I'm right here. You held me most of the night."

I ruffle his hair and smile encouragingly.

"Did you feel me in your arms?"

"Yeah," he exhales, relieved. "You're warm and soft and smell like vanilla brown sugar."

I chuckle and he grins back sheepishly.

"So strong and so brave," I tease. "My protector."

He rolls his eyes but cups my jaw, his thumb stroking my chin as his lips graze mine.

"Not as strong as you," he searches my eyes. "Never underestimate yourself."

"I do have one weakness."

He smirks, eyes glimmering.

"And what would that be?"

I giggle, burying my face in the crook of his neck. His fingers dig into my sides and I can't control the laughter.

"Stop! I'm ticklish," I squeak.

Of course he knows that and flashes a devilish grin.

"Zayn please! I can't breathe. I-"

He stops immediately, concern written all over his face.

"I forget how easily you get winded. Sorry," he frowns apologetically.

"Hey, it's okay."

"We're still going bowling and I'm still buying you those boots," he grins. "No arguments."

"Alright," I chuckle. "I think I'm ready for a live performance now. Something smooth with a 70s vibe."

"I'm feeling it. Maybe some Stevie Nicks or David Bowie."

"Or...an original."

He arches his brows in surprise and I get up, treading across the carpet do pick up my guitar.

I strum softly, my eyes closing as the chords come together.

The air in the room is growing heavy  
Things between us   
Getting heady

Truth falling from your lips  
Spilling like kerosene   
Dim lamp light   
When we needed a forest fire

And I wasn't ready  
Words dripping like sweet honey  
Why couldn't you tell me then  
That you didn't want me  
No, you didn't want me

All my crying is lost  
Never saw the warning signs  
Thought we were meant to be together

Truth falling from your lips  
Spilling like kerosene   
Dim lamp light

You've created a forest fire  
Oh, you've created a forest fire  
Poured gasoline on my heart

We needed a forest fire

It's coming together, slowly but surely.

"Sounds beautiful," he praises. "I love listening to your voice."

"Thank you," I mutter. "It would be nice to see Ed and the lads."

"When did you write that?"

I shrug, picking at the strings. "It isn't very good but I just recently got into writing original stuff. I uh...even have a rhyme book," I blush furiously. "Sometimes I'll just write down certain emotions or themes I want to explore. It always ends up kind of sad."

He frowns, his hand slipping around my waist.

"Why so sad, huh? Why the pouty face?"

His knuckles graze my jaw and I smile as our lips connect.

My moan hits the back of his throat as he pulls me down, his fingers tugging at my hair.

"Would you ever write a song about me," he pants just beneath my earlobe, his teeth gently nibbling.

"Fuck," I exhale as his hands slip up under the thin cotton material of my shirt.

"I'll take that as a yes."

I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head and he scoops me up, throwing me over his shoulder.

"Stop," I giggle. "Zayn put me down!"

"We're going on an adventure Harry!"

Great. What could he possibly have planned?

"What are we," I grumble. "Nine year olds going to the park."

"Would you ever agree to a picnic?"

He sets me down gently and I scratch the back of my neck, considering it.

"I dunno. Maybe."

"I'll keep that in mind," he smirks. "But for now we're going bowling. We can order steak fries and cheeseburgers and I can whoop your ass in the lane."

"Sure," I chuckle lightly. "I'd love to see you try."

He looks me straight in the eyes, demeanor dead serious.

"Trust me sweetheart, I'll give it my all."

A deep shiver runs down my spine. He tugs on his leather jacket and a pair of well worn boots.

"It's chilly and we're doing something later tonight so wear layers."

I decide on a plain white shirt and pull on Zayn's oversized maroon hoodie

"Oh stop," he coos. "You're too adorable."

"Do you know what isn't adorable?"

"What's that babe?"

He locks the door and we step out, his hand slipping into mine as we walk towards his car.

"Bowling shoes."

A small bubbly laugh is released as he starts the ignition.

That's how my heart feels. Ignited. Like sparks are flying and it keeps expanding, thudding heavily in my chest.

"You nervous love?"

He places a hand on my bobbing knee and I shake my head silently.

"Something bothering you? Talk to me Harry. Not only am I a counselor, I'm your boyfriend. You can trust me, okay?"

Zayn parks it, refusing to unlock the door until I confess.

"There's just a lot on my mind and I can't think straight. You're very distracting."

"That's a good thing, right?"

I blink, unable to form words and he leans across the console to kiss me, hands in my hair.

"Wow," I gasp. "I think you just answered your question."


	22. warmth

+Zayn

"A strike on your first bowl?" I'm in utter disbelief. "You can't be serious Harry!"

He laughs, doing a victory dance and I somehow manage a spare.

"You aren't so bad yourself."

The couple in the next lane freezes as they watch Harry get a turkey. What is he, a professional bowler?

"It's all about the release," he grins.

"Do you want nachos?"

"Yes," he says excitedly. "As much cheese as possible. If they make you pay extra so be it."

I chuckle and we take a break to wash our hands, eat some very cheesy nachos and share a strawberry banana milkshake.

"This is so good," he moans, adjusting his bendy straw. "You're honestly the best."

"Just because I bought you a milkshake," I act offended and he rolls his eyes playfully.

"Yes Zayn, only because of the milkshake."

His tongue pokes out at me and I want to tackle him. I want to pin him to a bed and fuck him into the mattress.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You," I reply truthfully. "You're so damn cheeky."

"It's because you love it," he grins. "It makes me more irresistible."

I snort, stealing his straw.

"Unbelievable! I'm outraged, you can't just-"

My lips find his and we share a short rather sloppy kiss, aware this isn't the appropriate place to get carried away.

When we're done the game resumes and he continues kicking my ass, his right leg curling behind his left, toes planted on the floor as he lets go of the ball.

Somehow that makes a difference; the way you move your leg and swivel your hips.

"You weren't too shabby," he chuckles. "That's a damn good score if you ask me."

"Whatever, you had a crowd of fans."

He's so proud of his victory it warms my heart.

"There's somewhere I still want to take you. I don't know if you'll be into it but we have all night."

His hand slips into mine and we step into the darkness of night. It's frigid outside and I curse myself for only wearing my leather jacket. Harry tugs at his jumper, shivering. Luckily, he brought a puffy coat and it's in my passenger seat.

I crank up the heat and put on the defrost. There are flurries starting to form and his eyes sparkle as he releases a content sigh.

"It's so beautiful."

Harry is the most remarkable thing I've ever seen. The flakes of downy snow pale in comparison. His skin is smooth porcelain, the tip of his nose cherry red. He rubs his hands together, creating friction.

"I have a pair of gloves in the glove box."

"How fitting," he jokes. "Let's just stay like this for a moment, beneath the vast sky. Everything looks so immensely huge." He gazes out the window. "Think of how infinite the universe is and here on Earth we're just a fraction of it. I am the most insignificant thing-"

"You're my universe."

There's something enchanting about him, he just draws you in. Harry Styles isn't like anyone else; he's uniquely different. When he feels something, truly feels it, he pours his whole heart into it. He has never been one to do something halfway or to not finish. Harry isn't a quitter. He'd never abandon a friend in need.

He's such a kind-hearted person in makes me furious that such horrible things could happen to him. There's something to be said about his strength and courage. The resilience he has to keep fighting.

Harry is always up for an adventure. Curiosity is just part of his nature. Anytime I want to explore something new Harry is there to try it with me. I'm never alone.

There's no other way to say it. He's my best friend. I love him to the ends of the Earth; deeply, compassionately; so fully it envelopes me. It's a hopeless kind of love. One where going a day without him is torture.

Sometimes I feel lost when I'm alone. He's such a big part of my life he always knows exactly what I'm trying to say, even when I'm not sure myself. He can decipher emotions written on my face. We have a secret code; a way of communicating that's more complex than words.

It's the way we look at each other. The space between us, fingers just barely touching, limbs entangled. Quiet sighs and shudders and shivers. Silent tears and the warmth of an embrace. The lines creasing our foreheads or the space between our eyebrows.

So when we find ourselves in a heated snog session in the backseat my body is suddenly afire. Places of me that have been dormant for years roar with life. Every sliver of my skin is warm, my heart softening like wax.

We're molten hot lava and explosive eruptions. The blood pumping through my veins is hot like burning coals. The windows fog up and I can't seem to remember anything.

All I know is that I love him. I'm certain that nothing else matters but the smooth texture of his cheek and the wetness of his mouth. The slickness of my tongue delving into it and his soft messy curls.

His eyes look like a fresh blade of emerald grass.

"I love you," I murmur against the crook of his neck. "I can't do this here though. It isn't intimate. It just doesn't feel right. Besides, there's something I want to show you."

The wind nips at us but I'm still quite fuzzy on the inside. We drive and drive until I park in a field. He's right, the sky is infinite.

"I would always come here when I ran away from home," he admits. "This exact spot on the bank. I'd stay here for hours and skip stones."

"Wow," I say breathlessly. "Me too. It's crazy. We probably came to the same place a thousand times, passed by each other and never even noticed. It's frozen over now though. I'd skirt across that ice if I had any skates. I just thought I'd tell you a few stories. This is where I had my first kiss, right over there," I point to where a rosebud bush blooms in the springtime. "It was Cassie Sullivan. She was literally ramming her tongue down my throat. We got drunk on a bottle of vodka and I threw up in the grass," I chuckle. "We thought we were invincible. Everything changed in that moment. When our lips touched...I froze up and realized I wasn't like other boys. I'd flip through magazines, heart tumbling as I stopped to look at the male models. There wasn't anything odd about it, I just thought they were prettier than the women. I appreciated the curves of their bodies; the flex of their muscles and their toned abs. Thinking back on it now, they had nothing on you. I don't need some airbrushed and poorly edited bloke."

He's quiet, hand still in mine. It's a comfortable silence. The flakes have stopped falling and there's a sprinkle of white on the ground. Just a dusting.

"I like listening to you," he admits quietly, voice nearly carried with the howl of the wind. A mere whisper. "That's what helped me get through it. Your stories," his head falls onto my shoulder. "You were always so honest and so open. I felt like I could trust you with everything. I'd never had a friend like you Zayn. You actually cared about me; looked past my stutter. Other people pitied me but when you looked at me your eyes conveyed something so different. They said look at the fight in him," he bites back a smile. "Look at how powerful he is, admitting that he's a victim but realizing that it isn't over. He can do anything. His will is strong and his heart is stronger."

"Harry, I'll always think that about you. You inspire me. Even if you don't realize it. When I met you I was smitten. You were everything I'd ever dreamed of and more."

"My boyfriend is so amazing," he grins up at me and I kiss his forehead.

"Hey, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Okay," he laughs. "I mean I'll probably give you an answer."

He's so young. We're both so young but I'm ready. The moment is right, my heart pounding out of my chest as I get down on one knee, sliding the ring out of my pocket. No ring box, no fancy dinner or or extravagant scenery; just the place where we both found ourselves.

My voice shakes even though I try to steady it. I'm nervous as hell, free hand carding through my damp hair.

"Will you marry me?"

His hand cups over his mouth, tears streaking down his cheeks. He says nothing, just nods fiercely.

The ring slips onto his finger and he wraps his arms around me, tears soaking my jacket.

"We haven't been dating long. I feel like I just asked you to be my boyfriend," I chuckle. "But...it feels like part of me has always known you. Without you I'm incomplete. I've never wanted anything more than to spend forever with you."

"Oh Zayn," he clutches tighter to me. "I've never felt so warm."


	23. strange ways

+Harry

His smile is dazzling and so is the ring on my finger, glimmering under the pale moonlight.

"I can't believe this," I mutter in awe. "This is really happening."

He chuckles, arms wrapping around me. "Tell me why you came here babe."

"Something about being alone felt nice. This was always an escape. I knew they'd never search for me here. At one point in time it was the only place I felt safe...but now I have you," I smile timidly, fumbling with my hands. "When I'm with you nothing else matters."

"I'll never let anyone hurt you Harry."

His finger moves a curl out of my face, lips pecking my cheek.

"You're my best friend Zayn. Without you I honestly don't-"

The words get caught in my throat, warm tears pricking at my eyes.

"I wouldn't still be here. There were so many times I thought the agony would consume me, the constant fear, the paranoia, the nightmares. I'd feel so worthless I convinced myself nobody would care if I killed myself but now I can see that isn't true."

His breath is hot as it fans across my neck, arms around my waist.

"It's bloody cold. We should get going."

For once I'm not afraid of being in the dark, wind whistling through the trees. Our fingers are laced, his slender and tan, mine large and pale.

He looks so angelic, jet black hair perfectly framing his face. Cheekbones so sharp they could slice me into bits, eyelashes long and curled. He blinks, eyes soft like warm amber and honey. There's a little freckle in his eye and the gentle slope of his nose. The perfect hook and sweep of his smile. Thin waist and strong abs.

Out of all the things I could possibly say I settle on "you are the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes on. I am so lucky."

"That's you," he replies playfully, finger poking the tip of my nose.

"Not true," my cheeks redden.

Cherry red as always. Embarrassing but there's nothing I can do.

"I think I should show you just how beautiful I think you are."

He sends me a smirk and I only blush harder, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

When he reach his car I realize my body is nearly numb. A deep shiver runs through me and he blasts the heat, defrosting the windshield.

"Wasn't my greatest idea. I'll make some warm tea when we get home."

"Hot chocolate," I order firmly.

"Okay," he laughs. "Anything for my fiance."

"Oh my gosh," I squeal excitedly.

Everything is like a dream, him scooping me up into his arms, carrying his place bridal style, peppering my face with kisses. When he sets me down the kissing doesn't stop, the heat and passion of the moment warming me up instantly, fire roaring inside of me; flames licking.

"Onto that cocoa," he grins.

He's sure to give me whipped cream and extra marshmallows.

"Our first date," he sighs. "You wanted more whipped cream."

"You remember that?"

"It was unforgettable," he licks his way into my mouth, tongue sweet.

He pulls away, thumbs pressed to my cheeks.

"Did you always know we'd end up together? You were always friendly and wanted me to open up but when did you know?"

His lip furls in concentration, eyes closing as he thinks it through.

"I never pitied you. It was your strength I was attracted to first, even if that doesn't sound romantic. Of course I found you physically attractive but the heart and determination you have made me soft. Our first kiss-" he trails off, biting his lower lip. "Everything felt right, the timing, the passion, the way you looked at me, struck with fear...I knew I had to touch you; feel you. I wanted to make you feel better. You deserve that much."

"It changed everything. Oddly enough it was exactly what I needed and I never knew it. I needed the companionship."

He sets down his mug, arms stretching open wide and I know what to do, nuzzling against him.

My hand clutches to a blanket and I pull it up around us, the two of us snuggling up next to the fireplace.

Zayn is cuddly and warm, so much so I feel myself melting.

"You told Ed you'd be interested in performing," he ruffles my hair. "Tomorrow night right?"

"Yeah," I exhale shakily. "I actually feel ready. Besides we have some news to break."

"Sure do," he chuckles. "How should we go about that?"

"Well...I have an idea but I don't want to spoil it."

He groans dramatically so I kiss his forehead, giving him reassurance.

It's so peaceful, the sound of his heartbeat and the crackle of the fireplace the only sounds filling the room.

"You should sing for me."

"Too tired," I yawn.

He kisses along my jaw and I giggle, his lips tickling me.

"Finish your cocoa and we'll go to bed."

I'm obedient, sipping slowly, admiring my husband to be. He doesn't seem to mind. Zayn always takes things slow. We're never rushed, never hurried, never sloppy.

"Thank you for today. It was indescribable. I wouldn't trade what we have for the world."

My body collapses next to him, sinking into the mattress.

"I love you Harry. Too much to ever put into words."

I'm happily the little spoon, cheek pressing to the pillow. My words are muffled but still audible.

"I love you too Zayn."

"Do you know what's truly astounding?"

His eyes twinkle, fingers carding through my thick curls.

"That something so cruel led us to this. Like...there's good to be found everywhere; light in the darkness. That gives me hope. I just know no matter what life throws our way we'll be okay."

I wipe away fresh tears, my heart settling in my chest. There were days I didn't want to get out of bed, the thought of the outside world filled me with fear and anxiety. Sometimes I wanted to just give up. Put a gun to my head and end it all.

There's nothing pleasant about my situation. I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy but then again I would have never met Zayn.

"I completely understand that. God works in strange ways."

"That he does," he sighs and kisses the top of my head. "That he does."


	24. giggles and 80s music

+Zayn

"He's a natural up there," Ed grins at me, taking another sip of his beer.

Harry flashes a signature dimpled smile, feet tapping as he pours his heart out, fingers strumming his pain.

Everyone is just as entranced as me, the chatter dying down. The room is perfectly still and he isn't nervous a bit. He's in his element, curls bouncing and hips swiveling as he feels the music.

For a moment I forget I'm in a bar. It seems so intimate; like we're in a small space, just the two of us.

He glances at me for a fleeting second, sending a wink. People cheer at that and my fiery ginger friend elbows my side.

"Best performer I've had in years," he sighs. "Truly amazing. Who knew...the boy with a stutter."

"The boy with a stutter," I echo, heart warm.

I'm so proud of how far he's come. He's been through so damn much but here he is, on a stage singing to strangers.

When he first came in he was so bitter. Not that I blame him. He never asked for pity. Honestly, he never asked for much of anything.

He was still, hands folded in his lap, gaze distant. For weeks he never uttered a word, just listened to me talk about failed relationships and embarrassing stories. Silly mishaps. I spilled secrets in that room. He took naps on the couch and then one day it all changed.

Call it a miracle but that day everything changed.

I don't have a family. I don't have any pets. It's just me.

When Harry opened up to me all the emotions I had been holding in for years flooded out of me.

It felt so damn good getting everything off my chest. He was understanding and compassionate. All around, Harry is a kind soul.

He never fails to make me laugh. Everyone needs a Harry, someone who brightens your day. Someone you would capture the moon for.

Harry is giggles and 80s music and sunny days in the park. He's fields of flowers and a old used book store. He's a quaint coffee shop and the soft patter of rain.

There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep that smile on his face, to snatch it and store it in a box.

It's tucked in my heart. Every single piece of him stored in my memory.

So when everyone cheers and he gets a standing ovation I can't help but to cry. When he's all spent he walks off the stage, clutching onto his guitar case.

"Hi," he smiles, pecking my lips.

There's a sheen of sweat on his hairline from the intense stage lights. It's hotter than hell up there so I get him a glass of water. He gulps it down gratefully, head falling onto his shoulder.

"Do you want to go home babe?"

He shakes his head and sets down his case.

"I haven't had a drink in forever. You'll watch me right? Cut me off at four."

I chuckle turning to the bartender. "One gin and tonic and an old fashioned for this one." I rub Harry's back and the man praises him for his performance.

"I'll definitely keep an eye on you. Gravity will not defeat you tonight."

He laughs softly, taking a sip of his drink.

"Good?"

"Very," he licks his lips. I figured something sweeter, with a hint of citrus would fit him.

Me on the other hand, with my leather jacket and ring-clad fingers am more of a hard liquor guy. Then again I can hold it down and it doesn't effect me much.

"That's the real deal," his brows shoot up. "Strong stuff."

I shrug and give a smirk before taking a large swig.

"This is all I'm drinking, one of us has to drive back home."

Harry has other plans, ordering himself a bourbon on the rocks.

"Babe," I lean in, lips tickling his neck. "Take it easy, yeah?"

He nods but doesn't slow down much, his demeanor starting to change. His attitude is brighter; he's more chatty.

Ed enjoys this side of him and offers to get him some scotch. I shoot him a warning with his eyes and the offer is suddenly off the table.

Harry is talking with his hands, words slightly slurred. He gets a kick out of quite a few people, a crowd gathering around him.

"You're going to be huge kid," someone comments. "Drink on me?"

I'm growing anxious, foot tapping on the barstool. I rub at my temples and exhale, tension building in my chest.

"He needs space," I suddenly blurt.

"Z-zayn," he pouts. "I'm popular."

"I know."

Our fingers lace beneath the counter and he grins foolishly, head falling onto my shoulder.

The bartender smiles warmly and Ed keeps bugging him, stubbornly claiming he'll pick up our tab.

We argue for several minutes but he wins.

I tuck a curl behind Harry's ear and murmur in his ear.

"You're so beautiful. You know that?"

"Oh stop," he blushes under the dimly lit bar lights.

"You were incredible babe."

"Zayn," he giggles, biting his bottom lip.

I'm thankful he isn't a spiteful, angry drunk. Alcohol seems to mellow him out. It worries me though, his self-awareness isn't keen and everyone here is pressed to talk to him.

He palms at my jeans and I scold him, telling him we're leaving. He whines but eventually gives in, stumbling before my hand moves to the small of his back, steadying him.

"I've got you."

My other hand grips onto the handle of his guitar case. The drive home is silent, Harry dozing off, cheek pressing to the cold car window.

It's nice seeing him so carefree. We both needed this. When I pull into the driveway I text Ed a simple thank you.

...

He's a giggly mess. I crawl into bed beside him, what tiny bit of alcohol I had coursing through my bloodstream. His eyes squeeze shut, a pitiful whine falling from his mouth.

I place my hand on his chest. His heartbeat is erratic, curls plastered to his sweaty forehead.

"Please help me," he begs.

My stomach is twisted in knots because I don't want to do this. Not after everything he's been through. It's his request though so I place his on the bedside table and undress him gently, cold hands pressing to his warm chest.

"What babe? Do you feel sick?"

He shakes his head, "no, I just need you." He chokes out his words, curling into a ball and my fingers card through his hair.

His cheeks are flushed, beads of sweat collecting at his temples.

My head lowers and I'm swallowing his moan. He tastes like oranges and cranberries. My lips touch everything. His cheek, his throat, his collarbone. I hope he'll remember this in the morning, my touch on his warm skin. I spend time at his nipples before hastily undoing his zipper.

I'm sinking down, swallowing him as deep as I can. His hips buck as I suck hard, brows knitted as I aim to please him. Before long he's pulsating, hot liquid spurting down my throat. I swallow it down and move some sticky curls from his face, kissing his lips.

"Now you know what you taste like."

He's blissed out as my propped elbows give out, body landing beside his.

"God I'm lucky," he mumbles, trying to fight off sleep.

It makes no difference. In a matter of minutes he's gone, soft snores filling the room.


	25. important

+Harry

"Congratulations Curly!"

He cheers excitedly and pats my back. Of course he already has a beer in hand, faint smile on his face.

"Thank you," I blush.

There's a knock on the door and Zayn rushes to answer, absolutely beaming. He's literally glowing, eyes sparkling as he glances down at the ring on his finger.

"Heard a certain someone got engaged. Mind if I come in?"

"Um..." Zayn sends me a look and I wave him in. "Not at all."

"Josh," he embraces me, pulling away with a smile. "Thank you for always helping me out and for genuinely caring about my well-being...also for the three raises you've given me."

"Not a problem," he chuckles. "I'm so happy for you two. Are you excited?"

"I'm a bit nervous," I admit, cheeks flushing. "Weddings seem so intense."

"You're gonna love the honeymoon sweetheart."

It's Zayn chiming in, arms wrapping around me.

"Relax, yeah? It's a time of joy and unification. Who cares if we miss a step as we dance or smear cake on our suits? All that matters is that we honor our vows and that we cherish each other forever."

"So sappy," Ed teases. "I've been shipping Zarry since the beginning, just fyi."

"Zarry," Zayn laughs, shaking his head lightly. "You're too much."

There's a light tap at the door again and I groan, reality smacking me in the face as I open it.

"Mum?"

"Baby," her eyes are watery, mascara runny. Her arms envelope me, a whiff of her floral scent perfume making me dizzy. "I know I don't call you enough...I was just upset that you left home so soon. I didn't know how much the two of you care about each other."

She sniffles and I smile encouragingly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"I haven't been the best son either and I'm sorry for that. I love you so much. You're my role model. I look up to you. You've been here for me through my darkest times."

"My sweet boy," she sighs, clutching onto me. "I know I wasn't always so accepting of your sexuality, especially after what happened. It's hard as a parent, knowing your child will be persecuted for who they are and what they believe in but this," she pulls away, lips tugging upward as she glances over at Zayn. "This is love."

"Anne," Zayn smiles. "You're such a wonderful woman. I hope you know that you made Harry the person he is today; strong, driven and passionate. Don't ever sell yourself short."

"You my dear," he walks over, cupping his cheeks. "Are such a blessing. Without you I don't know-"

Her voice is breaking and so am I. We all know, the room growing quiet, Ed looking at us, listening intently. Josh appears to be slightly uncomfortable and trots off down the hallway towards the restroom.

Where I'd be.

A shiver runs down my spine but the ginger fireball is shooting up, announcing that there's food in the kitchen.

I'm thankful for him and his energetic personality. He always sees the bright side of things; knows exactly how to smoothly transition to a different subject.

"I made lasagna," Zayn scratches the back of his neck. "I hope that's alright. This isn't much of an engagement party but it's enough for me."

"Well," Ed bends forward, grin on his face. "I bought you wedding gifts."

"That's really thoughtful," I blush. "I appreciate that."

My mum breaks the silence, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

"This is delicious honey. Is the sauce homemade?"

"Yeah," he flashes a smile. "I really enjoy cooking. Harry and I bake all the time."

"That's lovely."

"I've decided something," Josh walks in, hands placed firmly on his hips, lips pursed.

"What would that be?"

"Well it's time for me to start a new chapter in life, turn a new page. I'd like to travel a bit, maybe settle down and find someone. That means I have to sell the music store. I'm saying this with a heavy heart."

"Wow okay," I exhale, fingers running through my hair. "I'm sorry about that."

"You're absolutely amazing Harry. I couldn't have asked for a better employee or better mate. You've been such a good friend and I couldn't be happier for you. I hope your life filled with love and adventure."

"Harry," my mother turns to me. "Are you not going to have a job now?"

I suddenly feel exhausted. My jaw ceases movement and I drop my fork, rubbing at my temples.

"Well, I have some fantastic news."

Everyone looks at Ed and he winks at Josh.

"I bought out the store and I'm expanding it. I'd like to add a live music lounge and a wet bar. I really need someone to manage it for me though. Happen to know anyone?"

Zayn laces our fingers together and I'm grinning like a fool.

"I'm so flattered. Of course I want to do it. That's such a great idea."

My head falls onto Zayn's shoulder and his fingers brush through my curls.

"Everything is so perfect. I'm so lucky to have all of you in my life."

"You're never alone mate," Ed smiles.

When everyone leaves Zayn sweeps me off my feet and carries me to the bedroom, planting kisses all over.

"I feel so loved," I giggle.

"You are. I love you so incredibly much. You're so beautiful."

"Stop," my cheeks redden, body growing warm.

"It's true. I cannot wait to get married and spend the rest of my life with you."

"What did I do to deserve you?"

He kisses the tip of my cheek and I melt, body sinking into the mattress.

"Harry," he says quietly. "What would have happened if your mum wouldn't have practically dragged you to therapy? What if you never would have opened up to me?"

"I probably wouldn't be here," I whisper. "Honestly, I felt so worthless I didn't see the point in living but you-"

I'm choking on my words, throat closing up.

"Always made me feel important."

"Oh Harry," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. "My sweet baby."

"Your kitten," I beam up at him.

"That's right."

His mouth works along my jaw and my eyelids flutter closed.

"Feels so good," I mumble.

"I'll always make you feel good," he whispers huskily, breath warm beneath my earlobe.


	26. to be someone's forever

+Zayn (mature)

"I like that," I hum, massaging his tense shoulders. "Just relax, yeah? A wedding isn't supposed to give you anxiety."

"It has to be perfect," he knits his brows in concentration, pen flicking across the envelope. "Ugh," he blows a strand of hair out of his face and folds his arms over his chest. "It looks terrible."

"I know how to do calligraphy. Let me take care of the invites. Why don't you test taste cake flavors?"

He chuckles and I dip down to kiss the nape of his neck.

"In pretty sure I want German chocolate."

"Pretty sure?"

My fingers run through hid messy curls and he's out of the chair, dimpled smile on his face.

"Close enough Zayn."

"Where do you think you're going kitten," I catch the crook of his arm and pull him to my chest.

He's in a fit of giggles as I shower his face with kisses. I hoist him up and his legs wrap around my waist, arms looping around my neck. I'm blindly walking towards the bedroom, tripping over a shoe at the end of the bed.

We're laughing like this is all brand new. I'm more in love with Harry now than I've ever been, gazing down at his rose tinted cheeks and those crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"Can we order a cake that tastes like you?"

I laugh and he pulls me down on top of him, our noses pressing together.

"That hardly makes sense. What part of me are we talking about? My lips, my skin, my di-"

He bites back a grin, hand muffling my laughter.

"German chocolate, whipped icing."

"Um...I don't think this is going to work out between us. I prefer buttercream and I just can't marry someone who likes-"

"You like me whipped," he grins cheekily.

"I'm about to whip your arse."

He squeals and ducks, trying to roll away but I have him pinned.

"We can compromise babe. Buttercream for the cake and whipped for the cupcakes."

"We're getting cupcakes? Zayyyyn!" his face lights up and he kisses me all over.

I chuckle as he pulls away, fingers carding through his curls.

"I specifically remember you saying cupcakes are the superior dessert. I've gotta get those cards written out."

"No," he whines. "That can wait. I'm more important. I am the importantest."

"That isn't even a word. You are most important."

He lets out a little huff and pouts so adorably I can't help but stay.

"Alright," I sigh. "Only because I love you."

"I sure hope so. We're getting married. You're stuck with me."

"You say it like it's a bad thing Mr. Malik."

His eyes glimmer, mouth upturning into a smile.

"How does it feel," I whisper softly, caressing his cheek. "To be someone's forever?"

I didn't mean to make him cry but Harry is a sensitive creature.

"I'm sorry," I murmur into his hair.

"Never apologize," he sniffles. "It's just that...that's the most heartfelt thing I've ever heard and I love you. I love you so much Zayn, I can never explain how much. I don't even think I can show you but I'll try. You're my everything."

"I don't-" my eyes search his, words faltering. "Can I make love to you?"

"Y-yes. Please."

I waste no time, undressing him, mouth wrapping around his member.

His eyelids flutter closed and he pants softly, throwing his head back. There's a mop of curls spilling across his forehead, a sheen of sweat at his hairline. He lets his fingers get lost in my quiff tugging softly, a plead for more.

I moan around him and his tip hits the back of my throat. His hips snap, moving further into my mouth. My eyes water, wet tongue dragging across the vein along the bottom strip of his member. I feel him shudder and pull back slightly, tongue circling his tip, eyelashes grazing my cheeks as I gaze at him. 

My tongue moves back to his slit, collecting a pearl of pre-cum.

"S-shit," he stammers and I stop to kiss him, the world melting around us.

Nothing else matters but the moistness of his tongue and the warmth of his mouth. He tastes so sweet it takes everything I have not to devour him.

One of my fingers slips into his mouth and his soft tongue slicks it up.

I pull it out and press it to his rim. He blushes like we've never done this before and something about that is so innocent and sweet it makes my heart trill.

"Relax kitten."

His body clenches around me and he inhales sharply, adjusting as I add another digit.

"Harry...I'd never hurt you. If anything feels uncomfortable just tell me to stop, okay?"

"You're so considerate," his cheeks flush, eyes wet with tears again.

"I'll make you feel so good kitten," I whisper into his ear and he shivers beneath me.

I continue stretching him, adding a third finger. I pause until he's ready, mouthing at his shoulder.

His back arches up off the bed as I hit that precious bundle of nerves.

"Zayn please," he whimpers.

He's so beautiful, skin glowing, cheeks a dark mauve, those emerald eyes sparkling. His lips are obscenely red and swollen.

"Shh, I've got you baby."

I suck at his nipple and bite very gently before licking over the hard little bud.

My hips swivel and he gasps before begging me to move. I pull out halfway before thrusting back in. His nails scratch at my back and I don't mind if I'm bleeding, as long as he feels good.

I quicken my pace, hips snapping as I go deeper.

"Zayn," he screams out, voice broken.

I'm scared as hell that I hurt him so I slow my movements, leaving a delicate kiss on his cheek.

"I can stop. Don't be afraid to tell me Harry."

"No just help me," he moans softly. "I'm so close Zayn, I'm so close."

His body weakens as I go at it again, legs trembling. I fuck him into the mattress and listen to the sound of our skin slapping, moans echoing in the room. I can feel the strum of his pulse and the erratic beat of his heart beneath me.

"Zayn I'm-"

He doesn't even finish before his body tenses and he releases quick and hot, emptying his load buried deep inside of me.

I thrust lazily until an orgasm rips through me and I go limp, falling beside him.

We're a tangled mess in the sheets. My heart swells as he nuzzles against me. I'll have to wash the linens but I can't leave him to clean up now.

My fingers tousle his curls. He looks so damn adorable, mewling into my mouth as my tongue furls around his.

When I stop a comfortable silence settles between us and he cuddles closer, body warm against mine.

"You're a good forever," he whispers. "Thank God for my stutter."

Every memory of us comes flooding back to me. It's so overwhelming I nearly weep.

I love this boy so incredibly much.

I'm finding those exact words again, heart even fuller than it was then.

"I don't mind your stutter at all."


End file.
